Reset or Resume
by kingofthewilderwest
Summary: Gaster's research unlocks the secret of time travel. After the Royal Scientist's untimely end, one of Gaster's colleagues - Sans - finds himself with the power to Reset. Confronted with unpleasant timelines and dangerous choices, Sans must decide how to navigate through time... if it's worth resetting for a better future, continuing with hope for the present, or simply giving up.
1. Preface Author's Notes

**Preface / Author's Notes**

This fanfiction would not have been possible (at least, not as polished) without the help of several amazing friends. I want to thank jayalaw for reading early chapter copies. I also need to provide an unending round of thankful applause to pandamerium and treepelt, who provided me with ASL information and feedback to ensure that my use of the language in this story is grammatical, accurate, and well-presented. I am so thankful to have learned more about ASL through this journey.

Although I have "Reset or Resume" marked as completed on FFN, I will admit this is about a third of my planned material for the story. I had high hopes for this fic and created the most intricate outlines and structures for this piece, but ultimately, I realized I did not have the time in my life to complete it. It's been well over a year since I last added material to my draft, and I consistently don't feel in the mood to tackle this again. I am sorry that this leaves story threads hanging and incomplete, and some areas might have subtle glitches in characterization I never corrected after tweaking some plot areas. But I know I will not finish this story. I planned to post it only ONLY when it was completely done (so as not to have reader commentary influence my planned plot, quality of writing, or level of enthusiasm for the project), so the fact I am posting it now means I have accepted this will not progress any further than it has. I am calling my work on it "done."

"Reset or Resume" might not have its ending. Nevertheless, I have worked too long and too hard on this story _not_ to share what I did complete. It's the fanfiction I have worked with the hardest effort and greatest amount of editing or planning. It's not done but I'm going to humbly say… I'm proud of it. Disappointed I couldn't finish it, but proud of what did get written. I hope you enjoy it, too. Individuals who have read my drafts have emphatically agreed with me that this is something that should be shared, something worth reading, something that can be legitimately enjoyed by readers despite its lack of planned ending.

So here it is.

Even without the scenes where Papyrus would have stepped out and shined, scenes explaining how the different plot lines connect together, and scenes leading up to Gaster's fateful demise, I hope it's enjoyable to read.

If anyone wishes to learn what WOULD have been written had I finished, please feel free to request that in reviews. After I post the full text for "Reset or Resume", if there is interest, I can provide outlines, a summary of what would have occurred, and explain how everything would have been connected together.

Thank you so much for looking at my fanfiction. Your readership truly means a great deal to me.

All the best,

Haddock

* * *

 **Hopefully Helpful Disclaimers:**

1\. This fanfiction is rated T for material including profanity, death (including major character death), and gun violence.

2\. The artwork cover is my own. I drew it.

3\. I am a professional linguist but I do not speak American Sign Language. I did my best to represent ASL accurately (fyi: full caps depict word-per-word translations, italics generic translations in grammatical English). I asked two ASL speakers for assistance and had them read all chapters with ASL in it. I don't remember if they read the final, rougher chapters, though. Those may potentially have unintended errors of translation or description. Let me know if there is anything major I need to fix, and I will be happy to either rewrite that moment or put in an A/N comment explaining my inaccuracy.

4\. I also did my best to research quantum mechanics and physics to provide a scientific-based approach to Undertale time traveling lore. Again, I am a linguist, not a physicist. I never even took a high school physics class. There will be some intentional finagling of science to get time travel to work - this _is_ science fiction, after all - though there may occasionally be errors in my depictions of science. I apologize if I've done so. I've endeavored to be as accurate as possible. But please... there is no need to send corrections to me over it... this _is_ science- _fiction_.

5\. This story isn't precisely my headcanon for Sans and Papyrus' backstory. _Some_ elements in here are my headcanons, but lots of this explores what I thought would be an interesting hypothetical.

6\. Lots of scenes were planned for characters like Papyrus and Undyne, but I did not get to those moments, and as is such these characters' representation is _incomplete_ \- not per say misinterpreted. Papyrus is, after all, far, far, far more than the peppy brother to Sans. He's complex, central, and impressive in many ways. Especially, Papyrus is the individual whose philosophical vision is central to Undertale. Papyrus, while someone who desires to be in the Royal Guard and is _incredibly_ skilled in fighting magic, is also the person who encourages Frisk to make friends with everyone. This philosophy of befriending everyone is what is needed to do a True Pacifist Ending and save the Underground. Papyrus holds the key to the greatest ending, the key to how all monsters can be saved and spared and freed from the underground. I planned to pull in a lot of great Papyrus material highlighting his great strengths as well as his nuanced relationship to his brother, but that would have been the bulk of Parts Two and Three.

And because I didn't finish this story, how Sans got from A (what I first present in this fanfiction) to B (what you see in present-day Undertale) is also absent.

If you still don't happen to like how I interpreted and presented the characters, that is totally fine! No worries! It's only to be expected that each of us have different preferences on how a character is portrayed, interpreted, or developed in the derivative world of fanfiction. Rather than posting toxic hateful reviews, you have the full power to not read my fanfiction and instead find material you do enjoy. Let us all work together to make the fandom an enjoyable place where we can kindly and excitedly relate to what we love in common.

6\. I can never say it enough so I'll say it twice to you today: thank you _so much_ for looking into my story!


	2. PART ONE: BODY

**PART ONE: BODY**


	3. 1: Visitor

**1\. Visitor**

 _[[File 1 SA-20150701-0-# MW 106, 108]]_

"IGNORE THE CEILING-HIGH LEANING TOWER OF EMPTY POP CANS! !"

An unwholesome cacophony assaulted the house foundation to rooftop; shouts trumpeted through the house, tumbled up the stairs, and boisterously ricocheted past walls and a locked bedroom door. Even coming from the far side of the house on the floor below, syllables crashed against the upstairs bedroom's rafters and shook its walls with greater energy than an earthquake.

It was one way to be woken from deep sleep.

He opened an eyesocket.

Lying from his supine position, he could crane his neck backward and blearily peer, upside-down, at a faint, emanating glow. That was it… a faint, emanating glow. A bright blurry, vaguely rectangular-esque thing glowing out from something non-glowy. There was no sense to the image. Mind, groggy and confused with semi-consciousness, could only process so much, and even his vision operated at low capacity. Only after slowly, muddily squinting for a minute could he recognize the view of light splashing through his window shades.

The rays were soft and barely warm, almost tangibly imperceptible on the cheekbone. Judging from the light's intensity and angle, afternoon was fading into evening. He could have checked the specific time by picking his phone off the floor – supposing the device had not run out of batteries – but he hardly felt like shifting positions on his mattress and reaching to retrieve it. Frankly, he could do without knowing the time. If he could see light outside, the day was still young... and that meant he might as well resume napping.

His eyesocket closed.

No action of his could drown out his brother's earsplitting shouts, but over time he had learned to ignore them. He would do anything to avoid doing anything, after all. He remained lying crumpled in bed with his crumpled sheets, allowing the continued monologue to harmlessly thunder over him.

"THAT TRASHY, TIPSY TOWER IS NOT OF MY CONSTRUCTION!

"IT IS MY BROTHER'S…

"HE IS TOO LAZY TO THROW ANYTHING AWAY INTO THE RECYCLING…

"…WHEREAS I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM A SKELETON WITH STANDARDS!"

The words floated over his drifting consciousness. Through the foggy, sleepy recesses of his thoughts, he wondered if something seemed vaguely… _strange_ … about the conversation. It was hardly worth thinking about, this close to returning to sleep, but for some reason, his mind remained awake enough to puzzle this through.

The mention of the pop can tower itself hardly perplexed him. Papyrus commented on it _rather_ frequently, after all, as he considered its very existence an offense. A serious offense. No. Something else felt peculiar about this moment, something he could not quite consciously identify. It wasn't the tone of voice, or the phraseology, or the…

Welp. Not that he cared. Even if he weren't trying to sleep, he wouldn't have cared.

When did he ever care?

He allowed the puzzle to drop from his mind, quit listening to Papyrus' boisterous babbles, and focused instead on the soft, relaxing whir sound which rose from his room's far corner. The self-sustaining tornado of trash handily worked like a white noise machine. It at least drowned out the edge of his brother's sharp screeches.

"AFTER ALL…

"I, UNLIKE _SOME MONSTERS_ , KNOW HOW TO THROW THINGS AWAY!

"AND HOW TO RECYCLE!"

Actually… that self-sustaining tornado of trash needed to be a lot louder to cut out even a decibel of that skeleton's voice. Maybe Sans would have to add some more wads of paper later. There might have been an empty chip bag in the refrigerator he could toss in, too.

Papyrus' speech continued to detonate unrelentingly through the house. Sans could not catch the voice of whomever Papyrus nattered to, but his brother typically dominated conversations anyway, both in terms of sheer volume and number of words spoken. The other individual probably had only squeaked in a word or two between Papyrus' passionate exclamations.

"BECAUSE POP CANS SHOULD BE RECYCLED!

"NOT THROWN AWAY!

"AND DEFINITELY NOT MADE INTO TOWERS THAT DOMINATE THE LIVING ROOM! ! !"

 _oh… that's it._ Realization dawned upon him. Muggy as his mind currently felt, he ought to have recognized this simple fact sooner: Papyrus had a visitor. Papyrus was entertaining a _guest_. Being as that almost never occurred, no wonder Sans had felt the moment peculiar.

 _there._

Satisfied he identified the anomaly, Sans repositioned himself with his wadded-up covers and attempted to drift back into unconsciousness.

"WHAT?!" An ejecting exclamation, presumably responding from some quietly uttered question.

"WHY DON'T I RECYCLE THE CANS FOR HIM!?

"BECAUSE HE WOULDN'T LEARN ANYTHING THAT WAY!

"HE GETS LAZIER AND LAZIER EVERY DAY!

"I'M NOT GOING TO ENCOURAGE IT? ! ! ? !"

The visitor spoke at much too softly a volume to be Undyne; Sans did not even catch the slightest sound of muffled speech from the guest before Papyrus launched into his response rant. Undyne's screeches would have nearly equaled Papyrus' in volume. That said, Sans would not have expected the visitor to be Undyne, given as whomever Papyrus spoke to seemed to be entering the residency for their first time. There would be no other reason for his brother to explain the pop can tower, after all – that had been accumulating and growing now for at least three months. The few individuals who ever frequented their house were well-acquainted with the leaning tower and its associated controversial politics, and most had even contributed to the dialogue by either defending the tower's existence or proposing increasingly creative methods by which to discard it.

This was someone new.

Had Sans not been so intent on fulfilling his daily quota of slacking, he almost might have been interested in who this newcomer was.

"TAKE OUT THE RECYCLING OF A SKELETON FOR A DAY…

"…AND YOU HAVE NO RECYCLING FOR THAT DAY!

"TEACH A SKELETON HOW TO TAKE OUT RECYCLING…

"…AND MAYBE HE'LL QUIT BEING A USELESS SACK OF BONES FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE! ! !"

Strange Papyrus had not mentioned this visitor sooner, come to think of it. On the rare but celebratory occasion a guest accepted his household invitation, he yammered about it every waking second. He also tended to drastically lose sleep, making "every waking second" literally "86,400 seven" – the number of seconds in a day, every day. However, Sans had not heard even a _word_ from his brother about these afternoon plans, nor the buzzing of his phone from Papyrus leaving an exuberant message. Right, right, his phone was probably dead, but even then…

This excursion likely arose at the spur of the moment.

 _curious._

And then he heard his name.

"SAAAAAAAAAAANS! ! !"

Papyrus' previous words, disruptive as they were, had come from his regular 'speaking' voice. Now that he _intended_ to yell, the scream erupted through the house in an overwhelming, apocalyptic sonic explosion. Sans' tornado of trash wavered at the aural onslaught.

"I TOLD YOU TO GO GROCERY SHOPPING! ! !"

Sans grinned despite himself. So much for sleeping. He knew what sort of tirade would be coming next, and it would be… hilarious. He had to stay awake for this.

"OH. MY. GOD, BROTHER.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU BUY ANYTHING EXCEPT KETCHUP, MAYONNAISE, AND MUSTARD!?

"THAT IS NOT GOOD NUTRITION!

"IT IS MILK, NOT KETCHUP, THAT STRENGTHENS THE BONES!

"DOCTORS DON'T TELL PEOPLE TO DRINK MORE KETCHUP FOR OSTEOPOROSIS!"

 _heh. you telling me you don't want to_ ketchup _on your nutrition?_

He _almost_ found enough energy to pull himself out of bed to present that poor pun to his brother and the guest. Papyrus' indignant reaction would be worth it. Sans even devised a follow-up pun for when Papyrus would have complained about the poor humor – it would be all too easy to talk about _milking up_ the jokes for what they're worth.

 _That_ would be funny.

As it was, Sans simply lay there, letting his brother boil about the lack of pasta ingredients from his half-hearted grocery store trip. He could find more than enough laughs simply listening to his brother, well, steam.

"COULDN'T YOU AT LEAST HAVE GOTTEN NOODLES FOR SPAGHETTI?!

"WE'RE GETTING LOW!

"WE ONLY HAVE ABOUT 54 MEALS LEFT IN THE FRIDGE.

"I NEED TO GET COOKING!

"WE MAY BE ALL BONES BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN WE SHOULD STARVE!"

Yep, remaining in bed turned out to be the right choice. Definitely worth listening to this tickling diatribe. Sans could hear the low-bass muffled booms of his brother stamping his boots on the tiled floor. The tantrum lasted an impressively long time before it died away and was replaced with the sound of Tupperware containers being shifted shelf to shelf.

"…

"WAIT!

"I FOUND ONE MORE BOX OF NOODLES!

"NYEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH! ! !" his brother crowed.

"HUMAN, WE ARE COOKING TONIGHT! ! !"

Sans' eyesockets widened, fatigue instantly evaporated. He jerked up from his supine position, propping himself up on one arm and staring intently toward his shut bedroom door. Electrocuting astonishment blasted through him. _wait… did papyrus just say 'human'?_

"I, GREAT CHEF PAPYRUS…

"…WILL DEMONSTRATE HOW TO COOK THE BEST PASTA OF YOUR LIFE!

"PREPARE TO BE AMAZED!

"ASTOUNDED!

"AWED!

"THROWN BACK IN ASTONISHMENT AT MY UNPARALLELED CULINARY EXPERTISE!"

A second's pause, probably to allow the visitor some response, and then…

"ALRIGHTY THEN, HUMAN! GET ME A KNIFE!"

That was it. That was it. That was it that was it that was it that was it. He _launched_ out of the bedroom, slamming open the door and charging down the stairs into the kitchen, throwing himself into the room with a rush of flashing yellows and blues.

"WE NEED IT TO CUT UP THE VEGETA-"

Magic exploded, room clapping in light.

A second later, the kitchen floor clattered with hundreds of bones skidding across the floor. Papyrus, jaw agape, stared at the carnage, stared at his _brother_ , whose left hand still hovered outstretched from his attack.

Slowly, slowly, Sans could feel the burn of his left eye fade. The bright blue tint of the room faded to its typical burnt orange and maroon colors. He could see more clearly the damage to the kitchen, of the pots and pans obliterated into useless flattened scraps of metal by his sudden magical outlash; of the refrigerator cowering, punctured like a pincushion, in the corner; of even the sink sporting fissures and cracks; of the entire space smothered, over and under and around _everything_ , with bones.

As for the human, no evidence could be found.

Except the hovering glow of a heart-shaped SOUL split in two.


	4. 2: Off-Guard

**2\. Off-Guard**

 _[[File 2.1 IH-20150701-3-2 MW 301]]_

Snow crunched softly but crisply beneath his feet. Below the weak soles of his slippers he could feel the snow's freezing wet, and more than his preferred share of ice slipping in at the heel. As he shuffled forward, attempting his best to step on the indented footprints of those who had walked before him, he could feel the ice sliding from his heel to his metatarsals and phalanges. The cold burned. Briefly he considered stopping to let out the ice, but knew the slippers would refill just a minute later. Sixty seconds of snow-less slipper would not be worth the effort of dumping it. He continued shuffling forward one damp slipper at a time.

Typically Sans loathed walking places – he was starting to prefer other, far _faster_ modes of transportation – but today he felt the strange inclination to travel by foot. It allowed him more time to avoid work-work. Sure, he could have arrived instantly at his station, pretended to attend to duties, then slipped away for some time in Snowdin's well-frequented restaurant, but in today's mental state, he did not feel like spending his extra time at Grillby's among company. He needed some solitude this morning to prepare for the upcoming day. The best way to achieve that would be to trek through the forest alone and enjoy the weather for what it was.

He could feel some predictive sense stirring inside him. He harbored suspicions about what the day would bring. If situations proceeded as they had in his previous experiences, everything would be changing soon, changing in unknown but likely unwelcome directions. It meant he wanted to soak in this quiet moment while he could. Walking from one location to another also would provide a welcome, nostalgic call-back to simpler times… simpler times where the only thing he _could_ have chosen to do was walk.

And despite the snow's chilly dampness, he could not complain to the woods' weather. No new snow showered from above, and the temperature might have been slightly warmer than usual. Pine trees lined either side of the walkway in a proud line of needles and branches. All things considering, it was a beautiful day in Snowdin Forest.

The silence might have unnerved him once. Elsewhere in the underground, there would be _some_ noise – the constant rumble of rushing rapids in Waterfall; nonsensical babbles in Echo Flower fields; cogs creaking and groaning in Hotland; the constant drone of voices in the crowded capital; the hum of high-powered machines in the desolate old lab; the cheerful chirrup of birds in the Throne Room; the deep, low-frequency bass at the CORE. In Snowdin, though, nothing could be heard. When snow drifted down, it floated silently into snowbanks. No wind rustled needles in the conifers. The road stretched onward between rows and rows of trees without a sound frequenting its path… not unless one chose to journey through the snow. Then the walker's footsteps would crack loudly, painfully, obtrusively into the noiselessness.

Indeed, that strange silence might once have unnerved him. Yet now Sans appreciated the stillness. Here a monster could breathe, relax, and simply _be._ There would be no maddened rush to fulfill an overseer's demand, no traffic from monsters trekking up and down city streets, no noise of newcomers fiddling with the local area's puzzles. The underground's problem of overcrowding had not yet reached these quiet tree trunks. Here in Snowdin Forest, the most to worry about was keeping warm.

Even that hardly concerned him anymore. Hence wearing slippers on his hike.

Technically he did have duties to fulfill here out in the middle of nowhere. Yet in a world where even the pines remained unperturbed, he found himself wandering idly moreso than attending to any of his boss' specific instructions. None of the puzzles out here had been used in some time, nor did he expect them to be used in some time; no use resetting them, even if he was supposed to have done so eight days back. Papyrus could rant all he wanted. It would entertain Sans, and as work could quickly become boring, he accepted entertainment wherever it came.

He often wondered why Undyne assigned so many sentries and guards to these unoccupied woods. No human had passed through the Ruins for… well, more years than Sans could recount. The last SOUL which had come through Snowdin Forest died well before Sans had been born.

Still, at least all this vigilance provided him an easy job.

Past a small, frozen pond he wandered; past a little garden of round snow poffs; past dog kennels and a few stations manned by bored canines; past infinite trees and a steady snowbank; and the more he wandered, the fewer footprints he found indented in the snow. By the time the pine trees transitioned to tall, leafless oaks, Sans was trekking through untouched terrain.

The indistinct marks of his soggy slippers led way to a small, pointy-topped booth. Behind the stall's counter would be a well-worn chair and countless empty condiment bottles. Perhaps, if he were lucky, a few still held some tasty squirts of ketchup. He could check later. Feeling peculiarly contented to keep wandering the woods, Sans continued forward, sliding past the station and entering the trees.

He veered off-road and weaved between trunks. If he maintained his direction, he could reach the Ruins, lean up against the door, and exchange some conversation with an elderly lady who lived on the other side of the walls. As relaxing as the silence could be in Snowdin Forest, he also appreciated the voice of a friend. It was a good way to pass the boring, uneventful hours… a good way to find something enjoyable and somewhat worthwhile in this world.

 _hopefully she's feeling better. sounded pretty rough the last time we chatted._

He never reached the Ruins. Never reached the door. Out from the corner of his eyesocket Sans caught an unexpected shifting movement. He halted. Turned slowly. Peered out carefully from between trunks with both eyesockets wide open.

His soul jerked up nervously from his ribcage, pulsating one heavy beat, once he realized what he had spotted.

He should have known.

A small, squat individual in a purple striped shirt wandered obliviously down the path, heading away from Sans and toward the sentry station he had left unattended.

He knew, even before he caught a good sight of them, that they were human.

So much for "no humans had been in the underground since before his birth."

 _looks like today will be just as interesting as i thought._

Competing and contradictory thoughts tussled inside him. Fear, hope, curiosity, dread. He felt some satisfaction his personal prediction had been correct – there _would_ be a strange occurrence today. But he also felt displeasure situations were carrying out as they were. A human wandered progressively away from him on an unmarked snowy road. He needed to decide – _right now_ – what he would do about it.

He could not know what today would bring. An uneasy sense of apathy clawed inside him, yet he fought against it, telling himself he might as well attempt to make the most of the encounter. Hopefully, by marching optimistically into this situation, all would end well… at least, that it would end better than it had in other prior times. He could still be an agent to a better future.

Right?

Best he could, he shoved aside his initial nervous reaction. He could make this moment fun. Mischievous grin rising over his jawbone, he veered to the right – quietly, carefully – and began creeping behind the unsuspecting traveler.

It was time to play one of his age-old pranks.

He could only see the back side of the strange visitor, their short brownish hair bobbing above soft, rounded shoulders. Small hands swung to either side of their sweater; they were squeezing their fingers together tightly, as though to fistfight off the cold. Legs reached high in labored steps to clear the snow; given as Sans had stepped off the trail, the human was breaking the path of snow themselves.

He followed right behind, gingerly placing one slipper in every footprint. He only diverged from the pattern once, intentionally, to plant a firm foot on a twig and snap it. The sudden crack of noise echoed through the woods.

The human stopped walking.

Before the human paused and tentatively turned around, glancing back apprehensively, Sans skittered back into the woods to dive behind a thick-trunked tree. He could imagine the perplexed expression on the human's face as they stared at the road behind them. There would be no other visible tracks and no other individual in sight – nothing but trees and an unfrequented, snow-covered path.

Only after a long, silent lapse did the traveler move forth again. They had to be feeling confused or scared. Their slower steps indicated some sort of wary caution, but they still kept their eyes forward on the road, not looking behind them once. Body language looked stiffer. Perhaps they were too nervous about what they would discover. Perhaps they were attempting to convince themselves that, if they did not see the potential danger behind them, that danger did not exactly exist.

Sans resumed his journey with a chuckle. What an entertaining debacle. Whatever happened next in life, at least he could take _this_ amusing moment out of it. As the human progressed further into the woods, nearing a tall, large wooden gate, Sans took less and less care to hide the noise of his footsteps. Tiny, muffled crackles became audible footfalls became weighty stomps grew into a menacing _crunch, crunch, crunch_. By the time the newcomer could hear his footsteps, they had frozen, neck rigid, arms taught at the side, knuckles so white they almost blinded the snow.

 _Crunch…_

 _crunch…_

 _crunch._

Sans tread ominously up behind them. He inched forward, closer to the frozen human, until he stood less than a pace away. Echoes of footsteps stopped. Silence. If skeletons had had traditional lungs, Sans' breath would have brushed right over the top of the human's hair.

Nothing moved.

Nothing.

"Human." It was a cold, monotone voice, one without any passion, without any sense of warmth or friendliness. He struggled to maintain a straight face while he spoke.

"Don't you know how to greet a new pal?

"Turn around and shake my hand."

Even supposing his stalking through the words had not terrified the traveler, his words _certainly_ spooked them now. The human could barely move. They glanced once stiffly over their shoulder, eyes wide, gaping shocked and unblinking at the skeleton. Sans caught a glimpse of amber irises before the human snapped their head back forward. He could hear them breathing. Could see them pull their body together even tighter, bringing hands up to their chest, and using each finger to fiddle with the edge of the opposite shirt sleeves. The human… finally… turned. After one more tug on the sleeve, they reached out towards Sans' outstretched left hand… and grabbed onto a whoopee cushion.

Sans never left the house without it tucked inside his jacket pocket.

A pathetic, wheezing sound of slowly-escaping gas ruined the ominous mood.

He laughed both at the horrid flatulent noise and the human's startled expression. He had not seen someone so shocked since he vacuumed the living room floor for Papyrus five years ago. Mouth agape, the human stared, before at last their shocked expression gave way to an easygoing grin and appallingly warm smile. The snow might have melted around them as the human let out a giggle and pulled up a timid right hand to half-hide their lips.

Sans held out his culprit toy for both of them to admire. "heheh… the old whoopee cushion in the hand trick. it's ALWAYS funny."

Out of both relief and amusement, the human's titters rose to higher pitches. Sans accompanied them with low chuckles. He was beginning to feel a lot better about encountering this human now that they were face-to-face. This short, round creature did not seem too dangerous – perhaps everything would be fine henceforth.

He could hope. He still had that going for him.

"anyways," Sans cut in, before the his conversant's laughter had died completely, "you're a human, right? that's hilarious."

When the human appeared confused by that comment, he continued, "i'm sans.

"sans the skeleton.

"im actually supposed to be on watch for humans right now.

"but… y'know…

"i dont really care about capturing anybody."

The human did not speak much, yet their facial expressions more than compensated communicatively. Every twitch of their nose, blink of their eyes, lick of their lips, directly manifested their internal thoughts. Altogether their reaction expressed exactly what they were thinking.

 _what did she tell them…?_

His mind wandered briefly to his last conversation with the woman behind the door. Her words still rung clearly in his memories.

He could feel his smile waver, forced the bones to stay up in a cheery grin. But inside of him, a bit of his chipper mood disappeared.

 _ah. so the human was warned, weren't they?_

* * *

 _[[File 2.2 SA-20150715-0-# MW 110]]_

A full half dozen royal guards stood in the brothers' battered kitchen. Papyrus, only somewhat recovered from recent events, blabbered more loudly than typical in an attempt to overcome his stammering. Sans, meanwhile, loitered wordlessly outside the room, leaning against the living room table and watching the commotion with a noncommittal eyesocket. None of the bones from the incident had been moved – at least, none intentionally, for a few had been inadvertently crushed by the iron soles of guardswoman armor – yet the human SOUL had been shipped straight to the king, in hopes that even in its shattered state it might still be put to good purpose. There was some uncertainty about this prospect. As long as human SOULs were known to last outside a host, and as much as the monsters had learned how to preserve those SOULs in special vats, it remained to be seen whether this SOUL would survive its long trip to the capital. Sans supposed he would learn later. Now the Dogi, Knight Knight, 01, and 02 clambered over the eventful afternoon's evidence, while Undyne marched dramatically outside the kitchen, red and black ponytail swinging to and fro with her martial stride.

Undyne's eye met with Sans' eyesockets. Lips curled in a frustrated snarl, the Captain of the Guard growled in what she meant to be a quiet voice, "Sans. I need to talk to you."

"welp. can't say i didn't expect that coming." He shrugged, folds from his jacket hood rising up with his shoulders. He remained slouched and unmoving beside the table, hands tucked casually inside his coat pockets.

Displeased with his reaction, Undyne insisted, "Sans. _Alone_."

"heh, sure, cap. i dont mind."

He forced himself to maintain a steady grin. It might have faltered, though thankfully, Undyne appeared not to notice. Back momentarily turned to Sans, she stomped toward the stairs, locating herself far from the other company in the house, before swiveling on her heel and facing him again.

She launched straight into the point – unsurprising, as she had never been one for subtlety and finesse. "Why haven't you joined the Royal Guard?"

Sans blinked. In truth, of all the questions he had anticipated from her, this first one legitimately surprised him.

"I said, why haven't…"

"sorry…" His cheekbones twitched into a bigger grin as he pulled out a mischievous wink. With a bit of a chuckle, he returned, "…your question caught me off- _guard_."

"NGAH! Sans!" The slivered pupil in her yellow eye quivered. As always, Undyne radiated energy, passion, and not-so-subtle temper. "Now is not the time for jokes!

"Listen. I like power. I like strength. I respect nothing more than the ability to go out and fight strong! We hired you as a sentry because you proved you were… competent… even if you were also, um, impressively lazy. But what you just did tonight… I've never seen anything like it!" With her left hand, she gestured to the kitchen, where the guards remained engrossed in Papyrus' narration. A smile crept onto her face for a moment as she reveled in the beauty of the destruction. But her mouth quickly enough returned to a contorted grimace. "You apparently killed _a human SOUL_ in the _blink of an eye_. A _HUMAN_ SOUL. I don't even know if ASGORE could do that, and he's the one who trained me!

"I thought ASGORE and I had hired the best and strongest monsters throughout the underground to be in the Guard…

"… But you.

"… How did you _do_ it?"

"heh." It was all he could think to say, at first. When Undyne's hand dropped, he stepped backwards, just enough to avoid Undyne's steamy breath upon his cheekbones, if not far enough to avoid the pungent scent of fish breath. The second sentence he thought of, _i caught the kid off-guard_ , seemed like it might set Undyne over the edge. His jokes were poor quality – nothing as good as Papyrus' clever puns – but even _he_ had enough comical sense not to repeat the same punchline twice in a row. Sans instead replied, "i surprised the kid, was all."

"Was all." Undyne crossed her arms over her chest – quite a feat in a full suit of clunky armor. Skepticism radiated through both her eye and black eyepatch. "I repeat: why aren't you in the Royal Guard with the other elite? I didn't know you could do that. Is ASGORE unaware too?"

Before Sans could respond to either question, she asked a third, more hesitant one, in a noticeably softer tone.

"… Is it because of Papyrus?"

Her ever-present grimace fell slightly. "Ugh… look… I know how much he wants to be in the Royal Guard. It's just that… he's too innocent and nice! ! ! For crying out loud, he just INVITED a HUMAN into his house to cook them SPAGHETTI! You…" and her face noticeably fell this time "… are you avoiding it so he doesn't feel bad?"

"heheh. no." Sans' eyesocket orbs drifted to the right. "hey, you know me, dontcha cap? the royal guard has to do hard work, and i like nothing better than to do nothing at all. quiet ole sentry life is good for me."

"I suppose so," she mumbled. As an afterthought, Undyne admitted, "It wouldn't seem like you, anyway. I can't imagine you standing guard or wearing anything except that stupid coat and pair of slippers.

"It doesn't even seem like you to do this at all. You're a sentry, sure. But even Papyrus is… well, sort of… a sentry, and I couldn't imagine him hurting something small as a flower. Sentries stand guard, but they're not fighting material. Not like this.

"Really, none of this adds up. I don't understand why you did it."

A short silence.

Broken. "welp, it helps ASGORE, doesn't it?"

Staring at him from the corner of her eye, she admitted, "If the SOUL can be used, it does…" Her voice trailed off for a moment, hope glimmering in her eye and a smile twitching at the corners of her cheeks. Hopes and dreams spread across her face. But still, in one last stubborn bout of frustration, she ejected, "Dammit, Sans, I would be ELATED to see this if I knew what was going on! ! ! What the hell are you hiding!?"

He shrugged.

"NGAHHH." She squeezed her eyes shut in a tightly-scrunched frown. She held it for some time. After taking numerous deep, cleansing breaths, she stepped around Sans, heading back toward the kitchen, and grumbled, "I wouldn't hire you into the Guard anyway. You barely even do your job as a sentry.

"… except tonight." Her eyes stared into the kitchen room, examining the utter carnage. Bones covered every inch of every surface, puncturing through the walls in patterns, stabbing the refrigerator, laying splayed over the countertops, piling on the floor in heaps. Only a small corner – the corner in which Papyrus had been standing – was spared. "Except… apparently… tonight."

* * *

 _[[File 2.3 IH-20150622-3-1 MW 299]]_

" _'_ _And the underground will go empty.'_

"I'm telling you, it can only mean dust. Lots and lots of dust."

Half-sturdy wooden chairs squeaked, and a few monsters in the room might have emitted a squeak-like sound themselves. Yet the room stilled otherwise, metamorphosing a generally cheerful atmosphere into something uncomfortably morose. The sooty sense of _death_ itched at their fingers, and several monsters nervously wiped their hands, rubbing off any imaginary dirt that might have been on them. Grillby leaned over, avoided eye contact, stared deliberately at the rag in his hand, and rubbed at the countertop with all his might. The squeak from his cleaning might have sounded humorous in other circumstances, yet here the unwanted noise only kept customers on edge.

Sans watched a rabbit reach for her fries. She flinched and jerked her hand away upon touching a few specks of salt – the texture must have reminded her too much of dust. She continued shaking her hand in air to fling off the sensation even as another attending monster spoke up.

"The a-a-angel of death symbol doesn't h-have to d-deal with the prophecy," they argued, voice quavering and stuttering so much their words could barely be understood. It might have been a good argument had they spoken with conviction.

"Pah! Of course it doesn't!" Now that the taboo subject had finally been acknowledged aloud, others were willing to insert their voice. A third monster entered the discussion with gusto. He rarely ever frequented Grillby's bar, yet tonight had, and apparently was here to stay late into the night berating others on their interpretation of obscure archaic relics. "You actually believe that little sign (it's called the Delta Rune, you should know that) is the 'angel of death'? Who even came up with that crap anyway? There's no angel of _death_ in the prophecy, there's no angel of death in the history books, there's no angel of death _anywhere_. It's just an _angel_ , and an angel is a good thing.

"Come on, keep smiling. We've still got our hopes and dreams, don't we?" he pointed out. "The prophecy's talking about us reaching the surface."

Some individuals lifted their heads, including most of the dogs at the table in the center. Though they did not enter the conversation, they all seemed to believe this interpretation over the other. Of course, anyone would _want_ the better alternative to be the right one, in the spirit of hoping, and Snowdin had always been a town that sought to stay positive.

Except for one adamant monster who slammed their empty mug down on the counter. It clattered with a frightful bang that sounded a little too much like a gun. The first speaker returned with vehemence. "Or all _dying_. Even if there isn't an angel _of death_ , the underground going empty sounds a whole lot like extinction to me." The speaker shuddered. "Our population is growing too rapidly. We're running out of space. Depression has skyrocketed. Did you hear the latest royal science lab reports? They're saying we won't have enough food for everyone within thirty years. Just thirty years! I know Snowdin's still peaceful, quiet, and small, but that ain't the case for the majority of the underground!"

Sans wished it were not so conspicuous to teleport out of the center of the restaurant. He could only predict raised voices and mayhem from here, and he did not relish the thought of witnessing either. So much for a nice quiet late evening snack before coming home.

The discussion continued, if discussion it could still be called. It had almost broken the barrier to be considered an 'argument'. "Come on, you just said it yourself. The underground will go empty. We'll find a way to break the barrier and go home. The underground wouldn't go empty even with… all the… um… _problems_ … we'd just have… um… population… reduction? But it'd only go _empty_ if we all _left_. Which means it's a good thing."

"That's not the whole prophecy, and you know it. Want me to repeat it to you?"

"I know it."

Yes, it was definitely an argument now, not just a discussion.

"Apparently you _don't_ know it." A voice cleared, and then:

" _'The One Who Has Seen The Surface… They will return. And the underground will go empty.'_

"There's only one thing that can see the surface and enter here… a _human._ "

Protestingly: "But humans can't get in."

Though he could have simply stood up and returned home, he did not wish to exert the effort. Sans tried to lift a finger and signal Grillby for another drink instead; that would help the situation a little, at least. However, the monster attending the bar single-mindedly rubbed half the polish off the counter in his vigor to avoid the debate. Sans noticed that the cloth was beginning to smoke; being a monster made of fire made some aspects of daily life… challenging… for Grillby. Even with fire magic, a monster could only control so much.

Thankfully, however, none of the arguing customers wished to incite the other too much. Their voices lulled, taking on a different type of intensity, near-whispers sharp and overlayed with worry.

"ASGORE has s-six SOULs, d-doesn't he?" The stutterer appeared less nervous to speak up to the crowd now, but their voice continued shaking as they considered a possible monster extinction. In desperate hope, they sputtered, "Six humans g-g-got here before. A human c-can come in and m-make the underground go empty."

"Yeah. Through _death_. They slaughtered us. They locked us in here. They killed _both_ of the king and queen's children last time." The words sounded more dejected than confrontational. No one enjoyed actually confronting their dire situation; it's why most of the monsters in the town attempted to remain lighthearted with innocuous jokes. Not tonight, though. Tonight was a rare moment of staring the prophecy in its ugly face. With no smile at all, the monster concluded, for a second time, "I told you. The underground will go empty, and we'll all turn to dust."

"Or it could mean that ASGORE gets the final SOUL and breaks the barrier…"

Everyone in the bar shifted uncomfortably. Grillby actually _did_ manage to light the rag on fire now. Desperately, he turned around and grabbed another towel, threw it on top of the burning cloth, but failed to completely stifle the flames. Fire flared up again, but before it could spread, Sans reached out and dumped his soda. Grillby provided a succinct nod of thanks, but then stepped away from the disaster area, standing straight and tall as ever and pretending the incident had never occurred.

The restaurant's all-customer conversation had been interrupted. With their emotions bleak, no one wished to _quite_ resume it. Yet they needed closure, too. A rather horse-like customer up in the front shrugged, let out a clumsy whinny, and pointed out, "Looks like it's just about waiting to see if a human shows up. And being extra careful when they do."

One of the white dogs at the center table nodded. Seeming more encouraged than he had been earlier, he declared, "And no human has ever made it past ASGORE."

His wife nodded. "(No human will make it past us, either.)"

The rabbit sighed, resting her elbows on the table and both paws against her white-furred cheeks. "But that'd be so boring. Life's always boring. Wouldn't you want to learn a bit about the human first? Get something interesting out of it before they die?"

"Are you kidding? Risk losing their SOUL?"

"(We aren't in the Royal Guard to play around!)"

The rabbit apparently did not enjoy the dogs' answers. "Well…" After screwing up her face, she turned around in her seat, stared at Sans, and batted her lashes. "What about you, Sansy? You've been quiet. What'd you do if you saw a human?"

Of course he would get dragged into this discussion. After squirting a round of ketchup in his mouth, he pulled out his best toothy grin and responded, "i'm s'posed to capture 'em, of course."

"Hey, be honest with us, Sansy." She knew him too well. They basically lived together in the same restaurant, they frequented Grillby's so frequently. "I can't imagine you doing anything except glance at them and go back to napping. What'd you _actually_ do?"

"i don't know," said Sans. He doubted she or anyone else in the room believed the words, despite the fact they were true. Something unsettling crawled up his spine at the thought. He stared at the counter, now as intent to study it as Grillby had been to wash it earlier. A horrible mess of splattered brown soda pop and crisped black cloth fragments trashed the surface of otherwise pristine wood countertops. It looked like a SOUL had been attacked and broken right there on the tabletop.

 _i really don't know._


	5. 3: Lapse

**3\. Lapse**

 _[[File 3.1 JA-20150702-5-3 MW 556-7]]_

He always remained sequestered in his room on this day, lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the hour to pass. At one time in his life he might have rushed out east, frantically charging through the snow, hoping to reach the rendezvous location in time. At least, he would trod slowly toward the aftermath to learn the results from this round.

He would not even do that anymore. It was no use. He would find his answer soon enough simply by waiting for time to pass behind a locked bedroom door.

His SOUL pulsed nervously inside his ribcage. Anxiety rattled his bones. No matter how many times he experienced this moment, he never ceased to loathe it. He could keep his outer self calm, and even his inner self was becoming numb… but never… _entirely_ … numb.

It was 12:53 PM. There were two more minutes to wait. Two more minutes until he learned what he needed to know.

He glanced at his cell phone – for once containing enough battery power to operate – and then let it slide through his finger bones and clunk onto the floor. It slipped and clattered next to a pile of mostly-dirty laundry and the base of a treadmill he never used.

In his other hand, his right hand, he held a far older piece of technology, one which he had buried in his workshop many years ago. Only on this special day did he dust if off and pay it any mind. Now he lay his right hand and the device against his chest, feeling the cold combination of metal, plastic, and bone rest against his belly.

He glanced again at his phone, pulling it up for a brief time check. It had hardly been any time since he last looked… but… _welp_ … he needed to know.

12:54.

One minute.

His fingers curled harder over the device. While the rest of him lay flaccid, sprawled listlessly across the floor like his discarded shirts and dirty pants, his right hand continued to tighten. He could feel the sharp ninety-degree angles on the thin, rectangular box. He could feel the buttons. He could feel the texture change between the metal frame and the slick display screen up top.

He craned his skull upward reluctantly with his vertebrae, angled his right hand back, and peered over his round belly to see the display screen. A line graph, constantly updating, scrolled across in pixelated blacks and whites, but he only cared about a single line of text above it. _MW: 556._

So far so good.

His eyesockets fastened to the screen.

Right at 12:55 PM the number switched. The line graph spiked, rising up. _MW: 557_ , Sans now read.

He threw his skull back, letting it thump to the floor. His hands lost their grip of the device, went limp, let the device tumble off his round belly and join the chaos on the floor.

He knew what he would find if he stepped outside now. He knew exactly where he could walk to find it.

A dusty orange scarf lying on the snow without an owner.

* * *

 _[[File 3.2 SA-20150701-#-# ##]]_

Papyrus would never understand why the human had needed to die.

Instead, he would glance cumbersomely toward Sans before leaving the house. He would cough, shuffle his feet, and painstakenly avoid glancing at the kitchen – still in ruins, still untouched by cleaning or care. He would not engage in their typical banter or even rant about the accumulating number of mismatched socks littering the floor. He would not mention humans in any capacity. He would speak in a voice too forced by optimism, exuberance cannonballing over innocent topics, obviously pushing himself to sound upbeat and handle their visitor's death with obstreperous denial. But through it all, Sans could feel Papyrus' radiating internal discomfort. He could tell. Even though Papyrus tried to hide it, Sans could tell. Papyrus felt leery.

It was not that the brothers had reached some insurmountable wall in their relationship – they were far too close for that, and had ridden through harsher tides than this – but it would nevertheless take time before Papyrus could again comfortably interact with Sans. The last twenty-four hours had felt awkward. Very awkward. And Sans suspected they would ride a few more days with uncomfortable coughs and carefully worded conversations before all returned to normal.

With a sigh, Sans watched the door close behind Papyrus. Papyrus mumbled "BYE, SANS," before his gloves pulled the door handle behind him, leaving the other alone in the house.

Of course his brother would respond this way. Of course Papyrus would glance askance at a sibling who inexplicably seared his houseguest into a pile of ash. Of course. He would expect no difference, and… he understood. He understood.

Sans could see through the windows his brother heading west down Snowdin's main street. His orange scarf flowed behind him. When Papyrus disappeared from sight, he let his shoulders fall in a slump, he turned away from the door and windows, and trudged into the kitchen. Technically he should have started his sentry shift an hour back, but he did not care. He needed to attend to other matters. He knelt down on the orange and maroon kitchen floor.

The Royal Guard no longer needed to examine the house for information regarding the human's brief presence and passing; there was no lingering reason to leave the evidence lying about – but on the contrary many good reasons to clean the mess. And now that his brother had headed off to the poorly-constructed sentry station to seek a second, living human that would never come, Sans could breathe alone in the house. He could confront the piles of bones strewn through the kitchen.

It would be impossible to explain, Sans reminded himself, as he stared at the decimated countertops, at the bone-stabbed oven, at the damaged refrigerator and cupboard doors. _He_ did not even understand it – how then could he distribute the information to his brother? No. It was better to remain silent. He could clean up the kitchen and be done with the incident.

Sans hated cleaning. Loathed it. Never managed to get around to it. Papyrus handled all cleaning matters in the household, from dusting to vacuuming to dishes to laundry. Yet Papyrus, uncomfortable with what had befallen in the kitchen, for once avoided attending to matters. His little brother would not feel comfortable touching the bones which had caused a creature's death.

Which left the cleaning to Sans.

Welp. As much as Sans loathed the chore, at least this would allow him the opportunity to handle his own dazed thoughts.

Sans now knelt on the floor and handled the double messes on the floor and in his mind. His phalanges brushed over the nearest bone. As long-settled magic often did, it crumbled, the bone falling away into a grainy powder. Sans reached toward another bone on the kitchen floor and it too turned to dust, another death in the kitchen.

Papyrus wanted an explanation. Sans knew that. Though his brother avoided speaking of the incident, he stared at Sans with a certain… worry… a certain expectation… a certain hankering… to hear the reasoning behind the event. Papyrus was prone to forgive anything. But he did not much enjoy unsolvable mysteries.

Sans sighed as he brushed away another bone. He knew he could not speak up. As much as his brother might believe the contrary, an explanation would not placate Papyrus. It would frighten him. And if word leaked out to any others – a sure thing, given his brother's large mouth – then he very well could be decried as crazy.

No method could successfully relay Sans _knew_ it was true.

The human had needed to die.

It had been the only way to save his brother.

* * *

 _[[File 3.2 SA-20080305-0-_ _#_ _MW 68]]_

Nothing on television appealed to him tonight.

He held up the remote and switched listlessly between program options anyway, as if some wonderful new show might magically appear in the half minute it took him to cycle between the underground's three channels. The first station, designated to follow the news, currently covered a sensational story about a squirrel somewhere in Snowdin forest. While that would electrify Snowdin's canine population, Sans personally could live without knowing every time a squirrel stepped paw outside the Ruins. The second channel appeared to be some live action drama with a plot as ridiculous as one actor's poor excuse of human makeup. The fish monster _obviously_ had scales, not skin, and even the most uninformed monsters had seen enough ancient artwork to know humans had four rather than six limbs. The final channel was a game show rerun which he had probably watched half a dozen times already. He hardly felt inclined to watch the contestants predictably answer – for the seventh time – what the capital of the monster world was. Duh. New Home.

Granted, the underground had never boasted an exemplary television network. With hardly any equipment, much of it salvaged from the dumps in Waterfall, the monsters owned little working media technology. It meant the movie industry business and the television networks struggled with limited experience and mediocre quality. Nevertheless, tonight's programming suffered more than usual. Had he been in a better mood, he might have found entertainment in the drama's poor acting, but as it was, he could only stare at the television screen with disinterest.

After thumbing through the channels for the umpteenth time, he elected to set the remote down and watch the not-really-news. The video camera angle juddered wildly as a cameradog raced after the squirrel. The camera's rapid motion made interpreting the scene difficult, but Sans believed he could see the tail of the squirrel disappear up a pine. Likely, this meant the news crew would stake out at the tree and point the camera at the branches for half an hour, hoping futilely that the squirrel would climb down, while viewers literally watched nothing except pine needles wave in the wind.

On any other day, this would have been as entertaining as the drama channel, something over which to laugh at its utter ridiculousness.

He did not feel like laughing today.

Lower and lower he felt himself slipping on the couch. Nothing could make this couch comfortable, especially because the seats had a tendency to slip out from underneath the sitter. Slightly shifting one's movement, or simply leaning back, would cause the cushions to slip to the floor. It took great expertise to sit on this couch without capsizing. As it was, even with his experienced knowledge of the sofa, he could feel himself beginning to slip further and further down, sinking slowly with gravity.

The door to the small apartment burst open.

This sudden flash of movement did not make Sans even blink. With a heavy-lidded, uninterested glance, he turned his head slightly toward the motion, and then let his vertebrae straighten out back toward the television screen. Surprisingly, the news station had switched from the squirrel-in-Snowdin video to the main station, where the newscasters were, for once, discussing actual news.

 _"The CORE elevator is scheduled to reopen next week after the accident which…"_

The newscaster's voice was interrupted by the heavy-marching individual who had entered the apartment room. "SANS!? WOWIE! ! ! YOU'RE HOME EARLY!"

"oh. hey, papyrus." Sans exerted energy and held up his hand to wave. It collapsed back down into his lap like metal to a magnet. He could hear the bones rattle as they smacked his thigh.

His brother responded, "I THOUGHT YOU WOULD STILL BE AT WORK.

"WAIT A MINUTE! YOU'RE NEVER HOME THIS EARLY!" In a rare state of astute observation, Papyrus squinted, eyes shifting, perplexed at this peculiar anomaly.

Of course he would notice. Of all the times he did not notice, it would have to be now. Once matters involved _working_ or _not working_ – a subject Papyrus regarded of great importance – the skeleton would finally notice something off.

"WHY _AREN'T_ YOU AT WORK?" He craned his neck, tilting his skull to an awkward angle, and peered at a clock hanging up on the wall beside the door, where the numbers confirmed Sans' early home arrival. "IS IT A HOLIDAY? MUST BE! 'COME HOME EARLY FROM WORK DAY'!"

Sans avoided eye contact with his brother. It was easy enough to pull off inconspicuously with the television on. He maintained a steady stare with the newscasters.

 _"The reopening of this elevator, which passes through the CORE and connects Hotland with New Home, is the first successful reconstruction process after the incident five months ago."_

Thankfully, Papyrus, ever the optimist, failed to notice his brother's conspicuous lack of answer. He began conjuring his own rose-tinted explanations for why Sans arrived home early.

"COULD IT BE? IS IT HAPPENING? YOU CAME HERE BECAUSE OF HOW MUCH YOU WANTED TO SEE ME? ? ?

"AS MUCH AS I ADMIRE YOUR WORK ETHIC, IT HAS LEFT US FEELING A LITTLE MORE… DISTANCED THAN USUAL." A euphemism. The brothers never spent time together.

"BUT YOU NOTICED! ! BECAUSE YOU'RE SMART! AND BECAUSE YOU CARE! ! ! SO YOU DECIDED TO TACKLE THE PROBLEM SKULLFIRST AND SPEND QUALITY TIME WITH YOUR BROTHER!"

The optimistic monologue only half-entered Sans' consciousness. He sank further into the couch and maintained a zombie-like stare at the screen, despite the fact he no longer quite knew what he was watching. Colors faded before his eyesockets.

He could hear his brother shuffling from beside him. Papyrus must have recognized some of his brother's inattentiveness, yet prompted, with hopeful lingering enthusiasm, "RIGHT! ?

"YOU PLANNED TO COME HOME EARLY SO WE COULD ENJOY A PROPER DINNER TOGETHER! ! ?"

The news continued to drone in the background. _"Most hallways and rooms remain off-limits to the public. As you all will remember, earlier this year, scientific experiments in the CORE Royal Laboratories branch…"_

Sans hastily turned off the television and shifted his focus to his brother. It was hard to think. He desperately attempted to recount all the words his brother had said, fumbled with his recent memories, and vaguely recalled the last sentence Papyrus had spoken.

He pulled out an answer the best he could. "yeah, that's it," he said, pointing at Papyrus with both hands and winking. Hopefully that act would be convincing enough for his brother to believe it.

And indeed his brother's grin widened. The lie had been accepted. "WONDERFUL! ! !" Papyrus crowed.

"I RELISH THIS EVENING ALREADY!

"WE'RE TWO RIBS TOGETHER IN THE SKELETAL RIBCAGE OF SIBLINGHOOD!

"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEAS WHERE WE SHOULD GO TO DINE?"

He was met with a blank expression. Sans' mind chugged slowly. "uhhh…" Sans shrugged, returning to his slouching position on the sofa. He finally managed out the words, "you pick."

"OKAY…" Papyrus contemplated their options for a moment, then clarified, "SO WE'RE NOT HEADING TO YOUR USUAL?"

Sans emitted out a half-hearted, "eh, whatever. sure, somewhere new, if ya want."

Papyrus paused, detecting something abnormal about his brother, who was increasingly melding into the cushions of the couch. He would have made a fine pillow had he been wearing a shirt of softer material.

"GOOD. I HATE CARBY'S," he finally settled on answering, though with a little uncertainty at what was occurring. Sans could tell Papyrus was beginning to suspect he had not returned home early for dinner. When Sans failed to defend his regular dining location as custom, his brother's smile began to fall to a frown.

"YOU'RE NOT HERE BECAUSE OF ME, ARE YOU?"

"ohhh, papyrus." Sans' whisper was soft.

"YOU'RE NEVER HERE BECAUSE OF ME!

"…

"…

"I DO NOT LIKE TO PRY, SANS, BUT I AM VERY CURIOUS WHY YOU HAPPEN TO BE HERE."

Sans was almost One with the sofa.

He did not respond… unless his eyesockets falling downward counted as a response.

Papyrus sighed. "DO YOU WANT DINNER?" he asked at last.

"eh."

"I GUESS MAYBE WE CAN ORDER A PIZZA LATER." Disappointment radiated through his words. Letting the conversation drop, Papyrus looked away from Sans, realized he had left the apartment door wide open, and rushed to shut it. He had to shove half his shoulder into the sticky door to force it closed.

After that action, Papyrus let his arms fall to his side, his brothers' morose body language spreading onto him. This night would not be as enjoyable as Papyrus initially imagined.

He then noticed, lying close to Sans' feet, a sheet of paper resting on the floor.

He leaned down to pick it up.

"um… paps, please don-"

Sans never finished his intended verbal warning. Papyrus took the paper in hand, and with a scrutinous eye socket, panned over the single-paged message.

"IT'S A RESIGNATION LETTER…"

Well. Now Papyrus knew the real reason Sans arrived home early.

"YOU DIDN'T EVEN PUT IN A PROPER TWO WEEK'S NOTICE?

"YOU'RE NOT GOING TO BE WORKING _AT ALL_! ?

"I THOUGHT… YOU LIKED DOING ALL THAT SCIENCE FICTION STUFF?"

Sans sighed, body collapsing into the cushions. "some things should remain science fiction."

Uncomfortable silence.

"DO YOU NEED TO TALK ABOUT IT?"

Nothing.

"I'M GUESSING NOT. THAT IS OKAY. WE CAN TALK IF YOU EVER WANT TO!"

One more sheet of paper lay on the floor, nothing more than a tiny scrap, but Papyrus, wishing both to maintain a neat apartment and avoid Sans' strange laconic disposition, bent over to pick this one up, too. He studied it for a moment, confused. "HUH." Trying to change the subject to something hopefully more lighthearted, Papyrus held the slip before Sans and inquired, "SANS, DID YOU DRAW THIS ART? IT'S… VERY GOOD? ?" He was forcing a compliment over something he obviously did not understand.

Sans did not even look at it, but asked, "is it a bunch of weird symbols that look like hands and snowflakes?"

"YEAH!"

This conversation seemed no more enjoyable to Sans than the last. Though Sans' answer was sufficiently long – more than could be said of some of his last responses – reluctant sadness dripped through his voice. "oh, that's just an alphabet an old friend of mine made up. he was always doing geeky things like that. secret code for him and his little caboodle of friends."

"COOL. WHAT'S THIS SAY?"

Sans glanced at it only briefly before responding. "oh. it says, "i'm a stupid doodoo butt'."

Papyrus huffed. "I DON'T LIKE YOU SULKING LIKE THAT. STOP IT! IF YOU DIDN'T WANT ME TO KNOW WHAT IT SAYS, YOU COULD HAVE JUST TOLD ME." He tossed it aside.

Another pause.

Papyrus' face fell as he decided to leave Sans alone. There would be no pleasant conversations this evening, no lighthearted family dinner. Heading toward his bedroom, Papyrus muttered, "MORE SECRETS! WHY DO I GET THE FEELING YOU NEVER TELL ME ANYTHING?"


	6. 4: Experiment

**4\. Experiment**

 _[[File 4.1 GA-20030909-0-# MW ]]_

 _"Photon readings negative."_

Three lab coats lingered far from any equipment, yet hunched their heads together for deep discussion. Hands gesticulated carefully; when one signed, the others payed careful heed, contemplative expressions covering their countenances. At the moment, one of the researchers dominated conversation, leaving the other two still and attentive.

 _"This next experiment seems very, very interesting…_

 _"…what do you two think?"_

The tallest of the three scientists stepped back after finishing his question. His report was complete. Middle-aged, lanky, and incredibly slender, he stood like a spindly stork above his colleagues. He gauged their reactions, peering behind a set of rectangular bifocals that contrasted his large round eyesockets and pale disciform face. Though he had asked them a question, he studied them with a quiet, confident assurance that suggested he did not, strictly speaking, _need_ their input. He had already reached his conclusions and only wished to see if these others agreed.

The shortest of the researchers raised up his hands to respond.

 _"dont want to doubt your findings, doc, but…_

 _"… sure you didn't make a big mass-stake?"_

Sans' face widened into a cheeky grin as he spelled out "mass-stake," one letter after the other, starting with three fingers wrapped around the thumb with the pinkie laid flat, ending with fingers curled and resting over a longitudinal thumb. Spelling was needed in order for the pun to translate – well, translate best it could. Languages never fully translated, and this admittedly translated _very_ poorly from English. But Sans could not resist the urge to wordplay regardless of what language first came to mind. It was always a shame when signed jokes could not translate to spoken speech, either, though he certainly tried to explain those jokes to the misfortuned monolingual.

Yet great Royal Scientist, Doctor Wings Dings Gaster, only glared at the poor joke. Gaster would have understood the similarities between the spellings of "mistake" and "mass-stake", but he made no indication he found the joke amusing. A shame – Sans found the wordplay rather clever. Photons… particles without mass… making a mistake regarding their present 'mass' in the experiment… he should have at least gotten a chuckle out of the impervious elder scientist.

Then again, he almost _never_ saw Gaster smile. The man concentrated too much on his experiments to find time for humor. Well, at least, that was how Gaster presented himself in the workplace.

 _"SORRY."_ Sans rotated his fist around his chest twice clockwise to apologize, yet as apparent from the grin, hardly felt sorry for the diversion.

His following remark only made that more apparent.

 _"just…_

 _"…i quanta bit more evidence."_

This wordplay translated just as poorly as the first one, but both of his colleagues comprehended the joke. They reacted in completely opposite manners, Gaster with disgruntlement, almost pained derision, while their third companion let out a short hoot of laughter.

 _"SANS."_

Sans' signed name used the fist-like "S" shape in what otherwise was the sign for "smile" – pulling up the hands on either side of the face from lips to cheek. However, Gaster's expression remained stoic when he mentioned his colleague's name.

Both hands' shape changed, flattening out to straightened palms, and the doctor threw his hands to either side of his head.

 _"FOCUS."_

 _"I WILL,"_ Sans assured them with an affirmative nod. _"i just said i'd like more evidence."_

Now that his comment lacked a joke, the other two finally realized what Sans intended to relay, and reacted with a little surprise. At least, Gaster blinking behind his glasses counted as surprise. It was as perturbed as he ever appeared in life.

Their third companion was a bit more outwardly explicit in his shock. _"You?"_ he asked, entering the conversation with raised eyebrows. He smirked in dubious amusement. _"You're the monster who wrote his entire dissertation on something everyone thought was impossible… and you're doubting things_ now _? I mean, these results are pretty clear and everything?"_

"welp." Sans said the word aloud automatically, a silly product of being raised by hearing parents. He shrugged, responded, _"sorry for being skeptical. but it's not every day we unlock the doors to parallel universes. are you_ SURE _your results can't be stochastically explained by some other more commonly held interpretation of quantum mechanics?"_

Gaster's response seemed snappish, perhaps even irate. His hands flashed with more than a bit of impatience. _"No. It's deterministic. Decoherence holds. I've checked all variables and replicated the experiment twice."_

The other two in the room let out a weighty breath. Even Sans, who as a skeleton did not strictly need to breathe, felt the urge to heavily exhale. If W. D. Gaster's reports were true – and, frankly, they rarely ever _were_ wrong – than this next experiment would be… _interesting_ … indeed.

"Interesting" would be an understatement.

 _"alright… then… let's go over it again, shall we?"_

Gaster definitely felt impatient, tucking his arms between his chest, yet he paid sufficient heed to Sans as his colleague summarized the experimental findings.

 _"according to your interpretation of your results, you made a successful isolation and there was a complete lack in photon interference. by your interpretation, we can build on these results to construct a channel between parallel universes. it's possible proof of the many worlds interpretation."_

Everyone in the room could read the skepticism in Sans' hands and facial expressions.

 _"Not possible proof. Definite proof."_

 _"give me the raw data. i'd like to see the numbers."_

 _"Of course."_ Gaster still held himself aright with a stubbornness that indicated he knew he was correct. Continuing onward as though Sans' close scrutiny would verify his interpretation, the Royal Scientist proceeded, _"I anticipate that our next tasks shall be difficult to accomplish. We'll need to be able to manipulate more than photons."_

Rain, having worked with Gaster many years, already knew the answer, but he had to ask anyway. Hesitantly, he signed, _"And what is our final goal?"_

 _"Monsters. We need to be able to transport living monsters across parallel worlds. If we can access parallel worlds, we can all escape into a universe where we're free and the barrier was never formed."_

* * *

 _[[File 4.2 GA-20030909-0-# MW ]]_

There were only a few more reports to drop at his desk, and then the work day was done. Research hours had passed even more quickly than typical. Gaster's findings, preliminary as they were, insinuated some interesting potential applications – and given the Royal Scientist's uncanny, innovative ability to capitalize upon discovery, Sans had no doubt he would be in for an extraordinary adventure. It came as no surprise the day passed quickly. Everyone on the team had been excited.

And, skeptical though Sans had initially been at the data, he had found himself warming to the concept. Sans could feel the same thrills Gaster felt about experimental results. He glanced at the printed laboratory report once more as he unlocked his door, shuffled into his cluttered office, and scooted around scattered dump piles of opened books. As Doctor Gaster had emphasized earlier this afternoon, the peculiar photon readings lacked typical interference. Photon interference had been proposed, in classical research like the double slit experiment, to indicate the presence of a multiverse. To be capable of removing that well-known observed photon interference would thus suggest an ability to tap into a parallel world, a parallel world which was mostly the same, but in which some other event had befallen instead. And as wild as the idea sounded, Sans found himself still hunched over his desk, reading and rereading the data, with no ability to counteract the evidence through other explanations. This could not be mistaken. They had touched some parallel world. Doctor Gaster had made yet another extraordinary scientific breakthrough in an unrealistically short period of time.

At last Sans plopped the papers on his already-bedecked desk and turned away. He flicked off the light switch – carefully leaning around a particularly narrow, tall, and tipsy stack of hardbacks – and locked the office door behind him. Unlike that small square room, the hallway outside glowed brightly with long lines of fluorescent panel lights fixtures leading up and down the corridor. On the other side of the hallway, toward the center of the building, would be the common workspace for most employees, several laboratories, and the stairs leading down to the first and basement floors. He could hear very little clamor now, though, and could spy only one or two monster heads as he headed toward the laboratory exit. Sans appeared to be on the tail end of the laboratory's daily exodus.

As he stepped to the first floor and shuffled toward the exit, he did bump into one individual. The monster had shucked off his white laboratory coat and worker's badge to don on a poofy hoody that made him look thicker than his actual thin frame. Though he currently leaned in closely to peer at some postings on the bulletin board, he noticed Sans from the corner of his eye, turned to give a nod, and asked, "Oh oh. Hey. Are you heading over?"

"yeah, 'course. you?"

"I'll be there in a moment. Got to do some things first?" Rain's voice rose, as though asking permission, even though he was simply providing explanation for his immediate plans. "See you around. Okay? And don't leave a whoopee cushion on my stool this time."

"no promises." Sans winked. With a chuckle and a hearty whack on his friend's arm, Sans slipped past toward the double doors. He exited the building.

Sans did not glance back at the Royal Laboratory New Home Facility as he strode into the capital's streets, but he could feel the building lurking behind him. Instead, he slipped his hands into his lab coat pockets and strode forward into the busy cobblestone-laid street, trundling past globs of pedestrians; tall, tight-packed storefronts; loud-shouting merchants wheeling carts; loitering youths; wandering shoppers; idle loungers seated beneath restaurant awnings; busy intersections; quieter alleyways; an unending bustle of many living monsters. He did not have far to walk, though. He strode up the narrow road and took a left at the first block. There, crushed beneath shadows of four story buildings, smashed between a pizza parlor and a flower shop, there cowered an unassuming gray café façade. Worn brick opened up to large windows, though, leaking out lights and a picture of a cozy indoors. Sans stepped to the faded maroon café door, opened it, and slipped inside. He could already see one of his friends waiting at their customary spot.

The checkered round tables were cozy, not very large surfaces, but they sufficed for small tea cups and the occasional pastry. Sans noticed that, despite only Gaster having arrived at this point, there were two mugs at the table.

 _"you've got to quit buying my coffee. you already give me a paycheck."_ Yet despite the verbal comment, Sans was more than content enough to sidle into his chair, reach for the cup… and stare at a balled sock stuffed inside the mug.

Gaster very stoically sipped his tea. He set down the mug, then asked, in perfect regality, _"I believe you were saying something?"_

He chucked the wadded sock at Gaster's face. It whacked the scientist's cheekbone, barely missing the glasses frame before it landed on the table. _"this cup's for rain. buy me a drink."_

Right as Gaster was returning from the counter with a _real_ beverage, Rain arrived, shuffling in with a twitchy wave. _"Hi. Sorry for being late. I didn't miss anything, did I?"_

 _"no. not really."_

Gaster sat back down and reached for the nearest mug. He frowned after attempting a sip, slowly, slowly, lowering his cup, then glared down at the sock inside. His eyesockets slowly rose to glower at the offending prankster. Sans chuckled, reveling in the Royal Scientist's rare slip of passive demeanor, before scooting the doctor's real mug back to him. _"wow. that was sad. you shouldn't fall for the old switch-the-cup trick anymore."_

Rain shook his head and sighed into his hand. _"You two are so immature."_

 _"says the person pulling out crayons to draw on a napkin."_

Rain's paw paused before he adamantly attacked the napkin with a purple crayon. His scribbles were even less interpretable than typical. It might have been a spider web. Or a castle. Or anything at all, really. Everyone at the table watched the meaningless art piece develop until Rain set down his crayon, and finally responded back, _"Drawing relaxes me. That's productive. Not whatever it is that… you two… do. Hey, speaking of – want to play pictionary?"_

 _"I'm afraid I can't today,"_ Gaster returned. _"I am a little short on time. I plan to return to the laboratory before day's end."_

 _"Oh, what is it this time? Do you ever take a break?"_

 _"These projects_ are _my break. As far as what tonight's project is –"_ Gaster leaned back in body posture that was still rather stiff, but an indicator for him he felt relaxed _"– I'm continuing to adjust my prototype of a SOUL augmenter that increases the user's magic wielding capacity in select combative areas, namely the attack power and consequent hit point damage done by pellets."_

Teasing back, Sans interjected, _"to translate from your weirdo alien language… it's a weapon."_

He ignored the jibe against his vocabulary. _"Offensive and defensive uses are the primary intended function of the technology, yes."_

 _"Wow, Gaster. Why'd you be working on something like that? Thought that all you wanted to do with the rest of your life's research was find some way to get us out of here."_

 _"That is the intention of this device, too. If a human arrives in the underground, this will be the seventh and final SOUL needed to break the barrier. Ascertaining that the SOUL is acquired would be a priority at that point, in which case increasing a monster's attack abilities would not only be beneficial, but perhaps the make or break point in leaving the underground. Understand, I have no intention of idly waiting for some human to maybe – or maybe not – fall down here. I will continue to develop research that has the potential of us leaving without the seventh SOUL. Regardless, in the case that the event happens and we_ do _encounter a human in our lifetime, I will make sure that we find ourselves traveling safely to the surface."_

 _"well, there you have it."_ Sans had hunched himself over the table and was resting both elbows on the surface. He could feel his eyelids drooping; were he not careful, he would fall asleep. _"escape plan nine hundred ninety three for wings dings gaster."_

 _"One of them's got to work,"_ Rain said, hopefully. _"At least… it'll help us go in the right direction. Cool, Gaster. Have… fun? …tonight? Alright then. No pictionary. Maybe then a game of cards between Sans and me."_

 _"suppose i can't stay long, either. sorry pal. should probably go home soon."_

 _"That's fine."_ Rain shrugged. He seemed to contemplate packing up early, too, studying his artwork with a critical and slightly disappointed eye. Apparently, even for him, this was a bad drawing. Looking up at Sans, he said, _"If that means actually spending time with your brother, you need to do it. You're always complaining you never see him. So go. Shoo."_

 _"ok. ok. guess i'm going."_

He managed to chug the rest of the coffee in his cup – about half the mug – before standing and saying farewell. He entered again into the crowded city streets. It was not twelve paces before a little more weight sunk into his steps, and he found himself wondering what the hell he could talk about once he entered their apartment house. Photons? Decoherence? No. Definitely not. And he knew he'd be thinking the entire evening about determinism and many worlds and an infinity of topics to which Papyrus could not relate.

* * *

 _[[File 4.3 GA-20060309-0-# MW -1, 662]]_

 _"No! Absolutely not! That is the single most_ infantile _thing ever!"_

Doctor W. D. Gaster raised his pinkie finger up and tapped it twice on his nose vehemently. He was almost punching his own face, he was so upset. Sans' large grin grew twice its size, overtaking his face, while his body bent over into an uncontrolled laughing fit. The small skeleton curled into a ball on top of his chair, head bent into his crumpled white lab coat, and he clutched both hands on chest as his belly seized in endless laughter. Gaster could only sit, steaming, hands folded impatiently on the pristine surface of a perfectly cleared and well-polished desk.

When Sans finally raised his eyesockets, Gaster resumed his protests.

 _"NO WAY!"_ Pointer and middle finger snapped down together onto the thumb in an angry pinch and he threw his arm across his torso. An already emphatic sign took on even more gesticulatory emphasis. _"NEVER."_ Flattened hand and palm swished across his body in the shape of a question mark hook. _"I am_ never _going to repeat that."_

Enjoying this moment of malicious control, Sans leaned forward from the visiting chair and rested an elbow on the desk. He propped his arm and used the palm of his hand to hold up his jawbone. His grin never wavered as he stared at Gaster, eyesockets half-open in a confident and cheeky smirk, while he waited for the inevitable next round of complaints.

 _"This is childish. We are doing serious groundbreaking research, Sans! I_ refuse _to use that as the final code phrase."_

 _"YOU HAVE-TO."_ After pointing straight at Gaster, Sans hooked his pointer finger forward and re-aimed it directly at Gaster with the flick of his wrist.

 _"No, I don't. The project is ranked as a high level classified experiment right now, but someday we will publish our findings. The last thing I will have in my official publication is a description of the methodology where we used_ 'I am a stupid doodoo butt' _to verify the success of parallel universe travel."_

 _"well. look at that. you just said it._ " A smug, jabbing, and wholly entertained response. Hands could have not moved more tauntingly. Sans' cheekbones squeezed up into a physically painful grin, and a tear might have leaked out of his eye at the importance of this moment. He would literally mark it on the main laboratory calendar once he walked past the front entrance. Gaster slammed his hands down on his desk and threw his head back so hard his glasses nearly fell off his face. As it was, when he straightened his neck again, he had to reach up with a delicate hand and readjust the lens' positioning.

Rubbing in the moment, Sans teased, _"that wasn't too hard, was it, doc?"_

 _"Pick. another. code. phrase."_

 _"afraid i can't do that."_

Indignantly, Gaster responded. He hovered a flattened palm beside his ear, then curled his three central fingers into his palm, thumb and pinkie outstretched as he brought his hand forward in front of his chin. His pinkie curled inward, and he rotated his hand forward to hold a thumb up before him. However, that raised thumb did not indicate approval, but something far different in his native language. _"WHY-NOT?"_ he demanded.

 _"c'mon. you're the most brilliant scientist in the underground. surely you can figure that out."_ The glowing orbs in Sans' eyesockets flickered toward the door.

The doctor stared at the younger physicist with confused consternation for a moment, and then his face slacked as he realized what Sans meant.

 _"that's right,"_ Sans signed, relishing this moment and wishing it could last forever. He began laying out the entire situation, despite the fact Gaster would have deduced it all already. It would be _hilarious_ to witness Gaster suffer as Sans presented the facts.

 _"i have already decided on my set of code phrases for you to follow._

 _"as soon as i decided, you pressed SAVE, then walked upstairs to talk with me in your office._

 _"that means that, in every single possible timeline you can access, i'll still have the same set of code phrases._

 _"no matter how much you hate the code phrases, the only way you can prove to me you're a time traveler is if you say them._

 _"because if you go back to the previous SAVE, i sadly won't remember all your pitiful whining._

 _"as hilarious as the last twenty-five minutes have been, i'll forget all that._

 _"(seriously, though. twenty-five minutes of non-stop complaining? chill, man.)_

 _"the only thing i'll remember are my code phrases. which i think have something to do with you being a doodoo butt."_

Sans had _never_ seen Doctor Gaster squirm before. The physicist managed it quite well, tall lanky body contorting into tense, discomfited shapes as he agonized through Sans' words. Someone with spiders clambering all over their body could not have managed more painful jerking.

Left eye fell in a lazy wink.

 _"there's only one way you can get out this._

 _"if even that will work._

 _"because, frankly, i'm doubtful._

 _"the only way you can do this, is if you manage to convince me to change my code phrase right now, and then go and press the SAVE button again._

 _"but this is why i'm worried about ya…_

 _"that SAVE button is downstairs._

 _"i'm – what – twenty-two years younger, is it?_

 _"and im also closer to the door._

 _"somehow, you'd have to convince me to change the code phrase…_

 _"…get past me…_

 _"…_ and _outrun me through the entire laboratory…_

 _"…indecently charging through the halls in front of your large, important science team, who think SO well of you…_

 _"…in order to reach the SAVE button and set up a new backtracking point."_

In all his years of living, Sans had never experienced a moment more glorious than this. The sock incident came close, but this topped that. Ever-solemn Doctor W. D. Gaster, too driven and focused to remember to display his emotions on his face, was legitimately sweating, pain trembling across his forehead. He sat poised at his desk, unmoving, but with every bone in his body tense for action.

He made a break for the door.

A spindly middle aged man should have not been capable of such rapid motion. With a desperate backhand, he shoved Sans' chair aside, clawed at the frame of the door, and staggered right through the hallways. Sans capsized and his feet flew over his head. World spun. Books collapsed on him the second he crashed into the bookshelf. Ouch.

His fingers shoved aside a snowbank of papers, unburying himself, clambering desperately through stacks of hardcovers. "aw, no fair!" he exclaimed – even though Gaster would not be able to hear him – and adamantly charged after the sounds of Gaster's clomping feet fading out of earshot to the right. His vision juddered as he charged through white tiled hallways, but he could catch sight of a long-limbed leg disappearing around the corner.

Sans forced his stubby legs into longer strides, almost tripped on the tails of his lab coat.

He skidded around the corner.

A yelp.

For a second time, flying papers.

Limbs tangled into a mass of startled scientists.

A befuddled lizard who was sprawled across the floor groaned, rubbing her head, while Gaster slipped and slid over the loose pages of a scattered lab report. He glanced up. Eyesockets widened from behind bent glasses. Had just enough time to jerk his hand up in defense before Sans threw himself forward and tackled the Royal Scientist to the ground.

The entire lab floor shook with the impact.

"YESSS! ! !" Sans threw his hands up in celebratory victory as he sat, straddled, on top of Gaster's chest. He glanced down and read defeat behind the subdued scientist's glasses.

Celebrating his triumph, he signed, _"see ya in the next timeline, doodoo butt."_

* * *

 _[[File 4.3 GA-20030910-200406-0-# MW -1, 324-6, 339, 341, 350-372]]_

By all accounts, the project should have been impossible.

Everyone on the team knew it.

Impossible.

Regardless of Gaster's preliminary findings, regardless of his confidence, regardless of his drive, regardless of the royal coffers funding his research, regardless of his previous successes, regardless of his brilliance, regardless of the talented scientists on his team, W. D. Gaster's goal should have been u-t-t-e-r-l-y impossible. Perhaps in a hundred fifty years, with hundreds of monsters contributing their scientific expertise and unique thoughts on the subject, they could have halfway accomplished this mission. Gaster's desire to complete it in his own lifetime before he retired bordered on delusion.

 _"don't you at least want a larger team of scientists? three monsters can hardly…"_

 _"No. It'll be enough."_

Gaster stared straight forward, not even maintaining eyesocket contact as he provided his terse response. Rectangular glasses stared forward, determination shining on the lenses.

It was as if somehow he knew the impossible could be achieved. Either that, or he so _firmly_ believed it could be done, that he expected reality to shape itself around him and cooperate. Gaster's will could not be bent, so he would bend the very world around him until he reached his final, impossible goal.

 _"It'll be enough."_

A team of three tense white-coated physicists lingered together in a perfectly organized office space, one of them seated in the large chair near a notepad; one seated in the visitor's chair, flanked by bookshelves on either side of the door; one leaning up against the desk, not quite standing, not quite sitting down. Fatigue lined their faces – likely no one had slept last night.

 _"Let's begin."_

Academic journal after academic journal. Research paper after research paper. Printed reports landed on the desk, covering its once-cleared space with a mountain of jargon-littered text. A thesis. _Instantaneous Macroscopic Quantum Teleportation of Volitional Sapient Subjects via Magical Channels._ A book. _The Fabric of Reality: The Science of Parallel Universes and Its Implications._ An oft-read article. _Teleporting an Unknown Quantum State via Dual Classical and Einstein-Podolsky-Rosen Channels._ Another paper _._ _Quantum Probability from Decision Theory._ And another _. Experimental Motivation and Empirical Consistency in Minimal No-Collapse Quantum Mechanics._ And another. _Time Symmetry and the Many-Worlds Interpretation._ And even more. Hands sifting through pages, eyes and eyesockets gauging data, fingers lifting pencils, notebooks filling in notes. Discussions. Sharing papers. Pointing. Shaking heads. Rarely, a nod. Once-clean room overflowing in equations and interpretations. Physicists pacing the across the small space in thought.

 _"We should be able to combine your research on instantaneous single universe teleportation and apply magic channels to a cross-world model."_

 _"maybe the discussion on quantum entanglement is relevant…"_

 _"More of it is relevant than that. Let's look at this together."_

Skulls bent over to study text.

Passage of time.

Late day at the lab, going home in the quiet whispers of night.

Early morning.

Another meeting in an office, a different office, an office of waterfalling paperbacks, empty frozen dinner boxes, and mountain ranges of unsorted, unfiled workplace documents. _"you know, you could be right. with the proper construction of a magic channel after isolating photon interference between universes, transportation could proceed similarly to in-universe magic-based teleportation, at least at the level of some elementary particles."_ Notes, equations, half the notes from yesterday scribbled out in frustrated graphite. _"except we run into problems here…"_ finger bone pointing at a set of values _"and here…"_ hand tapping thoughtfully against the paper with the end of the pencil. _"even with our working knowledge of entanglement distillation for mixed states, what we've got won't work for larger particles, not even a plain ole boring molecule." "Why wouldn't your work on macroscopic in-universe teleportation translate more directly? All we have to do is modify…"_ another hand reaching out for the same paper, and writing in a solution _"…this and…"_ another scratch mark _"…this. Right?"_ Staring at the page together. _"maybe. yeah. maybe. it needs some work and adjustments. but it's something to explore."_

Meetings, collaborations, one office, another, a third office, the laboratory downstairs, a constant scuttle from one location to the next, while still confined to a single problem. Trapped in questions. Doors opening. Door shutting. Confusion. Revelations. Mistakes corrected. Back to brainstorming.

Long, tedious hours in the basement peering at numbers on instruments. Minutes seemed like hours. Hours seemed like days. Waiting with books in hand, reading printed text while taking a respite from machine screen text. Occasionally, surfacing with notes in hand, stepping into the office, catching the other's eye, and signing, _"preliminary results confirm hypothesis with a two-tailed t-test, alpha value 0.01, p less than four times ten to the negative third."_

 _"Implement Stage Two."_

More often than not, _"no statistically significant findings."_

Even the best results never returned clean. Experiments rarely verified intended physical clarifications. Always some strange reading, an unavoidable confounding variable, a peculiar numerical aberration inexplicable by current theories. The preliminary tests statistically significant where anticipated, the follow-up experiment producing a disappointingly mid-range p-value. More tests. More grime in the data. Questions more than answers. More areas to test and verify. More tests, more confusions, more tangles in the search of ever-elusive knowledge.

 _"Don't think we're going in the right direction, do you, Sans?"_

 _"nope. definitely not."_

 _"Let's take a step back and try something else. There was something in the article by Nomura we might want to look at."_

More late hours, more nights, more days, more evenings, more mornings, months rolling by in a fast and frenetic pace. Yes, there were rests, there were breaks, there were weekends – Gaster _insisted_ on maintaining health and not overworking – but it was back to the laboratory early Monday morning for another vigorous week of constant research.

Rain, for once not humming as he worked, remarking, _"These results aren't statistically significant and it's obvious there's no correlation, let alone causation. We're not getting anywhere. Think we've reached a dead end."_

Back to stacks of journals and hardback books, back to skull-splitting discussions of entanglement and universal wave functions, back to knowing nothing about everything.

Fall to winter. Winter to spring. Changes in the climate were subtle in the underground, but temperatures rose and fell with the seasons. Spring to summer. Taking off a long weekend for a rare holiday – his brother's middle school graduation. Could never miss that.

"Excited for high school now, Papyrus? You'll get the chance for some fun electives and classes, right? Interested in sciences like your brother?"

"OH MY GOD! ARE YOU KIDDING ME? HE CAN KEEP HIS WEIRD SCIENCE FICTION STUFF… I'M GOING TO BE A FAMOUS BASKETBALL STAR! ! !"

Four-day weekend rolled by too rapidly. Return to a life where Papyrus lingered alone in the apartment while his brother rushed off to the laboratory, returning home only after the younger fell asleep late at night.

 _sorry, bro. but this is going to change everything._

It _would_ change everything, if headway were ever reached. Unlocking travel between parallel universes would provide them – would provide _everyone_ – the opportunity to finally evacuate the underground. In a world in which hope so often trembled, where monsters in New Home constantly sought to forget their fears of living confined, there could be freedom. True freedom. True safety. True happiness and peace.

 _this is for you, papyrus. i swear it is. the last few years have been rough on us, but the future doesn't have to be._

 _heh. if only i can figure this out._

The next day in the laboratory, even Gaster admitted, _"We are going about this the wrong way."_

They all stood in Rain's office – stood because nothing existed in this room except the desk that had already been provided. Not even chairs existed, and thus they hovered around a desk covered in nothing but dust, and paced around a room that felt larger and more spacious than a laboratory office should be.

 _"seems to be no other way to go about it,"_ Sans pointed out, shrugging.

 _"Maybe… or… maybe not."_

Gaster checked that both paid him close heed before he proceeded.

 _"Our attempts to access the parallel universes have been through isolating interference and constructing a channel between our universe and what would be considered 'equivalent times'."_ His discussion, for once, lacked a large amount of jargon, yet he summarized their procedure accurately enough. His hands hovered, pausing for a brief moment, when he mentioned 'equivalent times.' _"That's too much of a blunt instrument. We're attempting to bore from one location to another with brute force. But if we consider the very nature of the many worlds interpretation, we should remember how multiple universes arise in the first place."_

 _"the universe is built of infinitely many divergent parallel quantum worlds in which the measurement of a quantum object does not force it into one state in a probabilistic outcome, but universes are fractured and duplicated for every possible outcome."_

 _"YES,"_ Gaster snapped impatiently, fist jerking up and down once in a curt and somewhat rude response. He continued onto information more relevant than a mere definition. _"The problem is that a universe splits into two universes based upon possible outcomes. We don't need to_ force _ourselves into new universes like drilling through a wall. Magic is powerful, but it has its limits. There are more elegant ways to access an alternate world. All we have to do is return to a point within our own universe where a different outcome might have occurred, and create that desired outcome ourselves."_

 _"You mean, go back in time,"_ Rain remarked. _"If we want to be in a parallel world where the barrier has not been erected, we return to a previous point in our own timeline. We make a new parallel universe by the very act of returning in time and making different results happen."_

 _"Exactly."_

 _"That's got a nice…"_ Rain hummed automatically as he signed _"…finesse to it, doesn't it?"_

Sans interjected. _"don't mean to sound skeptical here, but how is that going to be any easier than what we were doing before? at least with our current direction, we're building off of –"_

 _"Our current direction is an obvious dead end,"_ Doctor Gaster seemed unperturbed by his own comment, not even blinking as he stared out from his wire rims. His flattened right hand casually crashed into his left hand's perpendicular barrier. _"But evoking a new universe through time travel is something we haven't explored."_ Fingers, shaped like twos, hooked the air twice. _"Don't discount what you don't yet know."_

They left the empty office with overfilled minds and a sense of weight to all the work before them.

It would be many more months before Rain stumbled backwards, fell on his rear in the center of the laboratory, and exclaimed aloud, voice shrieking, "IT WORKED!"

It would be many more months clambering with follow-up experiments and numbers and toiling through statistics before they determined, "We're on the right path."

It would be many long months before they entered the laboratory with blueprints to a device that could hold a key to the future… and, most importantly… a key to the past.


	7. 5: Knocks

**5\. Knocks**

 _[[File 5.1 HI-20140202-1-1]]_

Although he had suspected, even before he accepted the position, that work would be boring as a sentry, it never ceased to amaze him how _terrifically_ boring the job turned out to be. The entire purpose of sentry duty was to watch for humans. The fact monsters lived deep in the underground ensured humans never came.

Meaning… a sentry… had… literally… _nothing_ … to ever do.

Some of the guards and sentries whose stations lingered closer to civilization found time to slip into town for short breaks or interact with passing travelers. For them, perhaps, the sentry position paid well _and_ they managed to spend their hours enjoyably. For Sans, whose station hid deep within the recesses of the forest, he could not simultaneously manage his post and keep himself entertained. Sans could either excuse himself from his station, ignore his job description, and mill about somewhere interesting, or he could sit under the dullest roof in the underground, watching branches barely move on a windless day.

Typically, he elected to do something more stimulating than tree watching.

Sentries could wander about their station so long as they remained in their designated area and returned to their booth frequently. Over time, Sans had learned precisely how much he could dally without infuriating his boss, squeaking by with the minimum amount of work accomplished short of being fired. Today, he would spend little time at his assigned station. He slipped right past it and headed deeper into the woods.

Though unfrequented, eventless, and dull, the deep forest boasted one fascinating feature. Sans could spy it before him, first by simply glimpsing bits of purple color between the branches of the pines, and then by spying the walls in their full glory. The Ruins.

These Ruins loomed high above him. Violet stone crumbled down from steep stone towers, and endless brick walls abruptly halted the sea of trees. Snowdin Forest ended unexpectedly with the proud remains of an ancient civilization. Its wall cut from north to south; and no mind how far north or how far south Sans had traveled, he had never reached the end of that wall. There appeared to be no route around these Ruins.

There seemed to be no route _into_ the Ruins, either.

Thus far, Sans had only located one entrance into the derelict wall. He headed there now. The path on which he tread led straight to an enormous set of ancient double doors. Two thick Doric columns held up an arched stone pediment, carved with an old but familiar monster symbol in which three equilateral triangles, two pointing upward and one downward, rested beneath a winged circle. Only the pediment was decorated. The door itself contained no marks – at least, none intended by the original architects – though many scratches and indentations marred the purple doors now. Likely, the damages had been caused by monsters attempting to open the entrance and explore inside the Ruins. Sans himself, in curiosity, had attempted to open the Ruins doors once, yet had found them, disappointingly, locked. No amount of magic appeared to evoke a response and force the doors open, either. He had admittedly not tried _that_ too long – he was getting lazy in life, truthfully – but instead he had contented himself with the knowledge this entrance could not be opened, and that the only entertainment he could glean out of the doors was to sit outside them.

He could not precisely explain what lured him to the doors. Perhaps they simply seemed interesting compared to the rest of the woods. Perhaps his old thirsts for knowledge and research drew him toward this little mystery. Perhaps he had settled into a habit of walking by them, and could not bear to break the routine now.

Either way, Sans settled outside the doors. He seated himself in the snow, ignoring the cold, and leaned up against the sturdy slabs.

Raising up a left fist, he rapped on the door.

Another routine.

"knock knock," he chuckled to himself.

Maybe he just came to these doors to practice knock knock jokes. The physical action of _knocking_ on a door made it more entertaining, somehow. Sans had probably played this game a dozen times with himself this last month.

He pretended to hear a response.

 _"Who's there?"_ that monster would ask.

With a mischievous smirk, Sans responded to the nobody, "who."

 _"Who who?"_

"heyanow, are you an owl?"

At this point, his listener would probably groan and shoot him a glare. That was always funny. Sometimes, the reactions were more hilarious than the jokes themselves.

Imagining the pained pun faces, he knocked on the door again. "knock knock." The door resonated with the sound of his knock.

"Who is there?"

Sans froze. SOUL jolted in shock inside his ribcage. He knew his eyesockets had blackened for a moment. _Did he actually just hear someone respond…_

 _…from_ inside _the Ruins door?_

Complete. Silence.

He recovered quickly, closing his eyes, and pretending as though he had expected a real, living audience from the start. In a voice that sounded remarkably collected and casual, he returned, "dishes."

He waited and wondered if he would hear someone speak again.

The high-pitched voice of a woman vibrated right next to his skull, close to his external auditory meatus, just on the opposite side of the door. It sounded as though this surprising guest was leaning against the door herself. And though he could not see her and knew nothing about her, he could sense a lonely eagerness to her voice as she responded, "Dishes who?"

He could only respond one way. With the punchline.

"dishes a very bad joke."

The thickness of the door muffled none of her loud guffaws. Hysterical laughter erupted from the other side of the door, high pitched shrieks shaking the door behind Sans' back and whacking him in the skull. The noise continued on and on for several minutes, well over the time most individuals laughed over the best of jokes. The entire time, Sans simply stared ahead, feeling the door rattle behind him, attempting to comprehend what was occurring.

 _There was someone who lived on the other side of the door!_

 _And she was here! Right! Now!_

Her chortles finally settled down, though intermittent giggles rose up several times when Sans had thought her laughter complete. He could feel himself smiling a little, now, just from hearing her laugh. Nothing could be more infectious than someone laughing, especially from an audience member who clearly had been deprived of good conversations and jokes for some time. It prompted him to rise up his fist again, rap at the door behind him, and bait her a second time, "knock knock."

She jumped upon his words. "Who is there?" Strange, aged formality accompanied child-like eagerness.

"crepe."

"Crepe who?"

"crepe to meet you."

The laughter which accompanied his punchline came with a delighted squeal. She seemed to wholly appreciate the appropriateness of the joke. Sans' own smile was widening.

"knock knock."

"Who is there?"

"anna."

"Anna who?"

"annather knock knock joke!"

He continued pounding them out. He exuberantly threw his hand onto the door and banged with excited force.

"knock knock."

"Who is there?"

"dozen."

"Dozen who?"

"dozen anyone know who i am?"

Again and again.

"knock knock."

"Who is there?"

"colin."

"Colin who?"

"colin to see how you're doin'."

Each time, she responded with enthusiastic howls.

A thick, bass-booming bump all of a sudden jerked him forward and interrupted the stream of jokes. He glanced back, startled, then realized what he had just heard. The monster on the other side of the door was knocking to _him_ now.

"Knock knock!" she exclaimed. Her voice carried a distinct sense of pride and barely-managed amusement, the sort of voice tone which accompanied little children struggling not to snigger.

"whos there?"

"Old lady!"

"old lady who?"

"Oh! I did not know you could yodel!"

Wow. What a beautiful, horrible joke. Amusement parted his jaws into an enormous grin. Laughter shook his belly and a chuckle rose out from his throat. "ehehehehehehehehe…"

Boredom completely forgotten, sentry duties completely forgotten, and with more cheer than he had felt for months, he rose up his hand to knock on the door once more.

* * *

 _[[File 5.2 IH-20150701-3-3]]_

He wondered if he _should_ be capturing the human after all.

It's not like that would be difficult to accomplish.

They trailed behind him timidly, very quiet, not speaking, keeping their hands bundled up in their worn sweater sleeves. While the silence might have indicated the human felt some lingering fear toward Sans, he suspected that was not the case. They seemed hesitant to be around him, and uncertain of whether or not they could speak, but worry no longer widened their eyes. In fact, despite his initial prank on the human, and despite the fact they had only shared a single, brief, one-sided conversation together, the little child almost seemed to be… attaching… to him. Certainly, they followed Sans doggedly, tripping through the snow on their stubby legs with a strong determination to match his pace. They could not successfully complete their goal; they kept tripping on their own feet, or sinking too deep into the snow to move, or falling behind simply because Sans had a longer stride.

Seriously though… all it would take for Sans to capture the human would be… to pick them up.

That was it.

Maybe situations would proceed better than the last time ASGORE acquired the seventh SOUL.

And yet…

Sans' memories flashed back to that previous timeline. His shudder came involuntarily. He glanced back at the child floundering helplessly in the snow, thought back to his last encounter with a human. A different timeline, a different unwanted result. Hesitated.

He based his judgment on what he saw before him. The kid yanked at a small ribbon in their hair, wiped their nose on their sweater sleeve, and promptly tripped and fell in the snow. This shy and rather innocent creature, barely four feet tall if even that, appeared completely undangerous. Perhaps their ancestors and their parents and the other adults in their life were much more frightful, but this child… not so much. If Sans had to judge this small human for what they were, he would consider them a far less polluted SOUL than ASGORE.

He could at least give the kid a chance. As uncomfortable as he felt walking alongside this species, better this than a guaranteed world of bloody dust.

 _so that's it._

 _don't say a word to my boss about what's going on._

 _the kid doesn't get captured._

 _i let them walk with me down to Snowdin… and then…_

 _then…_

 _then… something. not sure what that something is yet._

Sans glanced behind him to check the human had not fallen too far behind. At the moment, they were wrestling with a snowbank, but appeared on the verge of triumphing their battle.

Sans nodded, satisfied with his own decision – unconventional though it might have been – and continued forth. He heard the human crunching behind him a moment later. They had conquered the snowbank.

Slowly the two travelers approached Sans' sentry station, the small, pointed-roof booth he should have frequented well over an hour back. Ironically enough, though the sentry duties required he consistently man that station and monitor the road for travelers, his sidetracked excursion through the woods had led him right into the human.

Or perhaps… not so ironically. He had predicted it, after all.

What Sans did _not_ predict, however, was the six foot tall skeleton pacing frustratedly around the empty booth. A long, tattered, but brilliantly bright orange scarf flew like a dragon in the wind behind him, whisking around his neck as he paced. Gloves of the same bright orange fabric were clutched tightly at his sides, and rubbery orange boots marched furiously through now-well-worn tracks of snow. He had been stomping through the same circular path so long his feet were digging himself into a trench, making him appear a good half foot shorter than he actually was.

Worry seized Sans' SOUL immediately. The last monster he wished to encounter right now was his brother – not with the human in tow. Glancing around frantically, Sans wondered if he could usher the human into some trees. That might prevent Papyrus from spotting the human. As innocent as this little child appeared, Sans wished to take no risks with the human harming his brother. The grim histories and his past experiences with humans had taught him to be cautious.

"SANS! ! ! WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING?"

He froze. After a short moment, he pulled up a smile and slinked forward. So much for hiding the human. With the small child trailing less than three feet behind him, and Papyrus hailing Sans, he could no longer inconspicuously shove his human shadow away. All he could do now was play casual and hope for the best.

Situations had proceeded smoothly thus far with this human in this timeline. Maybe a good ending could yet be reached.

It was worth a try.

Slouching and shrugging, Sans responded to his brother, "getting work done, finding humans, ya know. that sort of thing." No one, not even Papyrus, would have detected the worry within Sans' voice; only a silly, teasing nonchalance could be heard.

Papyrus failed to detect even that. "I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS," he moaned, somehow not noticing the round, sweatered figure trailing right behind Sans. He continued pacing and gesturing at the piles of empty ketchup bottles littering the sentry station. "ALL YOU DO IS HANG AROUND OUTSIDE YOUR STATION. I SUPPOSE IT'S TOO MUCH TO ASSUME YOU'VE CALIBRATED YOUR PUZZLES?"

"uncalibrated as always, bro. the human i found will have to suffer sans sans-puzzles."

Sans glanced behind him, grinning and winking at the human, hoping this would help them feel more welcome in the situation. They stared, wide-eyed, with an unmistakably baffled expression at the brothers' dysfunctional conversation. A hand hovered before the human; they seemed divided about whether to hold their fingers to their mouth, or whether to reach out toward Sans and Papyrus.

"OH MY GOD!

"IT'S BEEN EIGHT DAYS! ! !

"HOW CAN YOU POSSIBLY NOT GET SOMETHING SO SIMPLE DONE IN EIGHT FULL DAYS!?"

"but you've got your puzzles all calibrated, right, bro?"

"YOU CAN JOKE ALL YOU LIKE ABOUT CAPTURING A HUMAN, BUT WHEN THE DAY COMES, WE NEED TO BE PREPARED!"

A voice, neither Sans' nor Papyrus', began squeaking. Both turned slowly toward the human, who was now half-standing, half-crumpled in a ball, and giggling with great amusement. Shrieking out, the child exclaimed, "How can you not seeeeee meeeeee?"

Papyrus' jaw dropped. It almost became unhinged, and he had to reach up a glove to quickly catch it before it dropped to the ground.

"WAIT… IS THAT…" He leaned in to whisper to Sans. "(IS THAT A HUMAN?)"

The whisper sounded rather like a blaring trumpet, words clearly audible not only to Sans, but also to the human beyond them. Dogami and Dogaressa could probably hear him, too, half a mile down the road.

Voice still shaking from fits of laughter, the child said, "Of course, silly! Imma – Imma human!"

"you heard that, didn't you, papyrus? that's a human right there before your eyesockets."

In sudden uncontainable excitement, Papyrus burst into a hectic, foot shuffling dance. His hands flapped wildly in the air and he let out an enormous hoot. "IT'S A HUMAN! IT'S A HUMAN IT'S A HUMAN IT'S A HUMAAAAAAAN!"

The dance stoked even greater laughter from the child. At the same time Papyrus shrieked, the human's high-pitched voice accompanied him in howling merriment.

"Ahahahahahahahaha you're so weeeeeeeiiiiiird!"

At last the tall, floundering skeleton contained himself. Sort of. Whirling straight toward the human, staring at them with eager eyesockets, he directed his words toward the brown-haired newcomer.

"AHEM.

"HUMAN! YOU SHALL NOT PASS THIS AREA!

"I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL STOP YOU!

"I WILL THEN CAPTURE YOU!

"YOU WILL BE DELIVERED TO THE CAPITAL!

"THEN…

"THEN!

"I'M NOT SURE WHAT'S NEXT.

"IN ANY CASE!

"CONTINUE… ONLY IF YOU DARE!

"NYEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH!"

And then, spinning out in another crazed dance, Papyrus rushed past Sans' sentry station, down the road, and toward what would be the location of his first puzzle. Sans knew his brother would await them there, eagerly, with the intent of befuddling the human with the puzzle the taller skeleton had created.

The human was still laughing behind Sans, putting their hand to their mouth to try to stifle some of the giggles. They were quieter than Papyrus had been, but not by much.

"well, that went well," Sans said to himself. He felt somewhat astonished. Papyrus' mood had never been brighter, and the human, on their own end, seemed very happy to be in Papyrus' company. Worries lessening, he thought to himself, _maybe things don't have to go so bad with the human after all._

He _could_ pave way to a better future, it looked like.

Now that the child had quieted, Sans turned around with a grin, not a fake mask but something containing genuine cheer. "my brother's been kind of down lately, but seeing you just made his day. he's never seen a human before. don't worry, he's not dangerous – even if he tries to be. whatcha say we go on up ahead and see this puzzle of his?"

"Okay!" said the human.

They trailed right behind Sans, staggering through the snow in wild leaps and fits of giggles, shrieks loud enough to frighten off all birds and rabbits that might be in the nearest five square miles. They could have been an altogether different human than the one Sans first met. His brother certainly loosened the child. No longer timid and silent, the human happily babbled all sorts of nonsense to Sans, everything from how to bake snow pies to how weird Sans' skull looked to how beautiful the ribbon in their hair was to their opinions of Papyrus' 'battle body' to how their mom didn't like the color black to their personal opinion of ferrets to a long narrative of their encounter with a snail-loving old lady they met on the other side of the Ruins door. Everything could be the topic of a conversation. There was no filter and even less sense of restraint for this child.

"How are you a SKELETON?" their happy little high-pitched voice squeaked. They flew gallantly over a twig that rested, flat, on the surface of the snow. Powder flew everywhere as they landed heavily into the snowbank. "That means – that means you should be DEAD, you know!"

"who says i'm not dead?" Sans trolled with a wink.

With a shrieking giggle, they exclaimed, "Don't be silly! Only ghosts are dead!"

"i could be a skeleton ghost."

"No you – no you _can't_." The human seemed to be quite confident about their knowledge in paranormal metaphysics. "You can be a skeleton. You can be a ghost. But nobody – NOBODY – can be a skeleton ghost."

"is that so?"

"YES so! You CAN'T be both. That would be wrong." Maybe the human mentally categorized skeletons and ghosts as separate Halloween creatures, ensuring they were mutually exclusive concepts. It was always challenging to comprehend a child's train of logic. "Except…" and now the child paused, leaning down and tugging at the sleeve of their sweater. Something thoughtful – at least as much as one so young could be thoughtful – passed over their eyes. They cocked their head to the side and stared at Sans. In the same sort of innocence with which they had talked about ferrets, the human inquired, "…can ghosts also be dust?"

Chills shot up Sans' spine. Though he could not see his own face, he knew that the shining white orbs in his eyes flickered off, and he stared out with gaping, blank black eyesockets.

It was the human's turn to frighten Sans, apparently.

Oh god… how did they know?

Part of him wished to teleport straight to the door of the Ruins and knock hard against the wall, hoping to hear some response from the lady on the other side of the wall. The rest of him knew he could not leave this child out of sight.

Attempting to appear calm, he asked, in what hopefully sounded blasé, "hmm… well let's see… what do you know about dust?"

Fidgeting in a clearly indicative manner, the child lied, "No reason. I just KNOW these things."

"'fraid you lost me there, bucko. what things ya talkin' about?"

"Everything." The child began to stroll forward again, round body rolling over the crest of a hill. Sans trailed after them, neck craning forward to hear their response above the loud crunch of their footsteps. This tiny little ball of innocence spoke in a confident tone that suggested Sans was stupid for not understanding their jump to conclusions. Typical contorted child logic. Except this logic had to be grounded in fact and experience.

"I think – I know ghosts are made of dust. It's because you can't touch ghosts. They're nothing and dust is nothing too."

"you… haven't happened to 've seen a ghost, have you?"

"No."

"that's a lie, isn't it." No more playful speech to the child now. A call-out, a demand, a grim glare.

The human squirmed. Their fingers fidgeted on the sweater sleeves for so long that the cuffs began to unravel. Finally, they said, avoiding eye contact with Sans the entire time, "I had a dream. She died, the old lady, she died, but it wasn't MY fault. She stood in the way and she TOLD me to. The goat lady was in my dream, and she told me that monsters are evil, and she said that monsters were evil, and then she said I couldn't leave, but I said I WANT to – to leave I do want to leave. And then… and then… she's dust and it wasn't my fault but she's a ghost and she's dust but that's all just a dream it wasn't real you know. But it is right because dreams are always right, well dreams like this are."

Accustomed to quantum physics jargon but not young child's babblings, Sans paused to parse through the narration.

"that's, uh, quite the dream there, kiddo."

They trudged along in silence. Even the child's voice had been stilled again, and they shuffled forward with the uneasy knowledge that they had upset their companion.

"alright. ya know what.

"you can keep walking through the forest by yourself. stay on the path.

"i've got some things to do. uh, see ya around."

He ran straight into the trees, not even attempting to act collected. As soon as the first line of trunks hid him from sight, he teleported.

 _come on… old lady… you better be okay…_

* * *

 _[[File 5.3 HI-20150624-1-2]]_

A discomfited giggle arose from the other side of the door, yet it sounded so pained she might have been sobbing instead of laughing.

He paused before attempting another joke. "knock knock," he said.

"Who is there?" The words sounded rote, forced.

He continued the joke despite his audience's current clear disinterest in comedy. He was not speaking this joke for the laughs, anyway.

"penny."

"Penny who?"

Hoping she would understand the meaning behind his punchline, he finished, "penny for your thoughts."

Silence answered him instead of laughter. For a moment, he worried that this latest knock knock joke had unsettled her. The two of them over the last month had exchanged countless hours of jokes to one another, and had laughed readily enough, yet it was something else entirely to ask for someone's serious side. They did not even know one another's name – why would he expect her to confide in him and explain her current troubles?

He was not even sure himself he wished to know. They _were_ simply joke partners, not close friends or anything.

And yet… she responded.

Her voice returned so quietly he almost did not hear her. Sans leaned up closer to the side of the door as the old woman mumbled, "If a human ever comes through this door… could you please, please, please promise something?"

 _…a_ human _?_ _what's she talking about…?_

"uhhh…"

"Watch over them, and protect them, will you not?"

Sans suspected that this woman _had_ , in fact, already met a human on her side of the Ruins. There could be no other motivation for her request. Yet with this information in mind, and the knowledge that soon Sans might need to enact his actual sentry duties, he paused.

Memories flickered over him, one after another.

Past experiences.

Visions of the future.

Screams.

Dust.

Laughter.

Celebration.

Uncertainty whether any of this would be relived again.

He sat, stunned, utterly speechless. A human lashing out with knife in hand, dangerous gleam in their eyes; a human curiously examining an orange scarf in the snow; a human treading over the metal cogs of a broken robot; a laboratory silenced and without an occupant; the entire underground muted in fear; the entire underground falling to dust; a legion of warriors rushing away, screaming, as humans overtook them… he could envision it all so, so clearly. How could he explain to her…?

"Please?" she asked, her voice even softer than before. Apparently, she would not accept silence as an official answer.

After a low, awkward cough, he responded, "i, uh, don't like making promises."

"This is very important."

"i know." Anything involving humans was of the utmost importance to monsters.

The wrong choice could lead to utter disaster.

Oh, he knew that all too well.

His bones rattled.

He _could not_ make the promise.

Complete silence reigned, and neither spoke.

"I know what the king wants," she at last said sullenly. "What ASGORE does with the human souls that pass through the underground. But he is wrong to kill the humans that come here."

Uncomfortable, Sans nodded, despite the fact he was uncertain he agreed with her… then realized she could not see his motions on the other side of the door, anyway.

"uh, yeah.

"ok." He pulled up his hand and rubbed at his forehead, barely believing him speak these words. "ok, you've got my promise.

"keep the human safe, that's what i'll do."

Oh, but how much he hated promises. Especially promises like this.

Who knew what the human would be like when they walked into the monster world? He could only trust the old lady would only let pass some human who would not be a threat.

* * *

 _[[File 5.4 IH-20150701-3-4]]_

Dread tingled through his spine. He could feel the entire spinal column trembling, bones rattling, kneecaps cracking together in fearful anticipation, as he stepped toward the enormous double doors.

As he had so many times before, he knocked.

And waited in deathly silence.

Sometimes she never responded. Sometimes several minutes passed as she trudged to the door to reply. Usually, though, she answered a mere second after he knocked. They knew one another's schedules at this point, understood Sans typically visited the Ruins mid-afternoon...

…and it _was_ mid-afternoon right now.

So it seemed strange that today she provided no response.

 _she's just coming down. she's a little late today, is all. she'll respond in a moment._

His knuckles rapped on the door again, a little louder this time.

Never hurt to pound loudly, just in case she did not hear the first time. He did suspect the monster on the other side of the door was very old, so he could not be certain about her hearing.

Waiting.

He could barely hold down his worried anticipation.

Waiting.

No response.

With his entire forearm, from capitulum to carpals, he pounded, pounded, pounded. After a solid ten seconds of assaulting the door, he shouted out, "knock knock!"

Nothing.

"knock knock!"

More frantic pounding. "knock knock, knock knock, knock knock, knock knock! ! !"

He counted the seconds, breathing heavily… _one… two… three… four… five…_

By the time he reached _twenty-five_ , he had fallen against the doorway, slumped, sliding down, until he sat leaned up against the unbudging entrance. He felt his back pressed against the solid slab, just as he had sat the day they met.

"knock knock," he whispered.

Only his imagination responded, _"Who is there?"_

"nobody."

 _"Nobody who?"_

"nobody… but me…"


	8. 6: Progress

**6\. Progress**

 _[[File 6.1 GA-20051010-0-#]]_

"Have you got this, or is this all on me?"

"welp…"

"It doesn't really matter."

"heh, i was about to say, i've got the camera. hard for me to introduce this thing and run the film at the same time. how 'bout you go ahead?"

"Oh. Right. Right. Well then…"

"camera's rolling."

"Wait – what?"

"you'll be fine, rain. just remember: layman's terms."

"Layman's terms. Layman's terms. Alright. Here we go." The scientist turned to stare into the lens of the camera with a half-nervous, half-excited jerk. He did not just buzz with excitement, but outright hummed, a little melody dancing in his throat before he found the words to speak. He stretched his right hand forward and waved ecstatically at the lens, obscuring the view of anything else but a wildly-shaking hand, before he backed up a step to gesture at an enormous white box behind him. A haphazard collection of controls, gears, display screens, and mechanisms grew like molds around the outside.

"Alright. Day nine hundred twelve, experiment one hundred four. The Machine." Now that Rain had begun speaking, excitement rose into his voice. The wavering hum-like melody turned into a gleeful cadence as he presented the box behind him. As he spoke, he gestured wildly. "Yeah, yeah, I know, stupid name for it… but hey! Easy to remember. The Machine. Today, we're going to use it to travel to another world."

Sans stepped in a wide circle around Rain while the taller scientist leaned in toward one of the dials. "I don't have time to explain everything that's going on, but basically, we're going to make a carbon molecule jump to a parallel world.

"Basically, the world as we know it is a bunch of universes that split off from one another like the branches of a tree. Indeterminate quanta st- I, uh, the – the – there are points in time where the world isn't deterministic. That is, most of the time, we can predict cause and effect without any problem. But in some cases, two different outcomes are possible, and the best we can do to predict which will occur is through some probabilistic computations. Anyway." Rain flapped his arms loosely at the camera. "When there are two possible outcomes, what happens is that both outcomes _actually_ occur. Time as we know it splits, and two universes are created, branching out with the two respective possibilities. One universe has option A occur, a second universe has option B occur. And this happens on and on and on and on for all possible outcomes, creating basically _infinite_ universes. So if you've ever thought about what a world would be like if something different had occurred in your past, the truth of the matter is – that world does exist! It's not the world you live in, but that world is out there, real, concrete, just as real as the things going on right here, right now.

"But back to the Machine." Rain pointed awkwardly toward the device again and grinned. "What we're about to do will prove that all these different worlds exist. Uh, I think I already said that we're going to make this carbon molecule go into a different world. That is, we'll send it back in time, a whole new universe will be created, and that carbon molecule will be a part of a new one. Erm… more or less. That was a really bad and inaccurate explanation, wasn't it, Sans?"

"ehhhh… it'll work. don't worry about it."

"Okay. Keep going?"

"yeh."

"So… then… right, right, I'll keep going. Uh. So we've done this before with some other particles. Today is special because we're doing it with a full _molecule_. That's uh… that's uh…"

"a whopping big deal for nerds like us."

"Exactly. I mean we're not – ohhhh, fine. Sure. Nerds.

"Now we have to ask ourselves a big question about this molecule we're sending into another universe. How do we prove that it's gone to a parallel world when we aren't leaving our world ourselves? If this experiment wor- when this experiment is done, you'll see not one, but _two_ carbon molecules. One of them is the one that's never left our universe. The other entered a world in which _something else happened_ and then came back. Uhhh… it's sort of complicated but anyway… hence two of them! We'll see both molecules. Well, not _see_ them because they're microscopic, heehee, we can't see microscopic things, but… um. Yeah. I think I've covered everything?"

"let's show them our stuff."

"Great!" Rain's gloved right hand hovered over the dial. For the first time since the video began, he was not moving, not jerking, not even shaking. A suspicious cast crept into his eyes, and he squinted at the video recorder operator.

"You're… actually recording, right, Sans? Camera's on, batteries are full, nothing is muted, the lens cap's off, you've actually been _recording_ …"

"hey, you don't trust me?" Sans' voice, from outside the view of the camera, uttered this with mock sadness.

"I know you like trolling people. Which means, no, I'm not sure I trust you with the camera. Augh, you know what? I'm checking now." Rain straightened and marched straight toward the screen. The camera's viewing screen jostled and spun, and in the background a voice muttered something about all the camera functions _maybe_ working. At last Rain conceded that Sans was not pranking him, handed back the camera, and the view once more settled on the Machine and the squirrely scientist.

"Don't you _dare_ touch the 'off' button."

"wouldn't dream of it."

"So." Rain exhaled an enormous breath. "This is it. The big moment. Here goes nothing."

In a bold and rapid motion, he whirled the dial. The Machine rose from a slumbering state and began churning, groaning, moaning, roaring, shaking. Vibrations began with subtle purrs and rose to greater, frightful intensities. Popping dramatically, rearing up like a horse with intense screaming, the Machine flew off the ground. Rain rushed away, and for a moment, it almost appeared as though the jumping machine would race after him. Bucking and kicking, it rocked in place, bursts and pops and cracks and roars screaming at unwholesome decibels.

The camera shook.

"turn it off. turn it off!"

"Shoot shoot shoot shoot shoot shoot shoot shoot!"

Smoke shot out in a sudden torrent, a pillar surging forth from machine to ceiling.

Camera vision clogged with colloids.

Coughing. One last explosive burst. And then silence.

"I think we… broke it."

"dammit."

"So much for experiment one-oh-four."

* * *

 _[[File 6.2 GA-20051123-0-#]]_

Sans stood at the corner of W. D. Gaster's office, waiting for the doctor to notice him from his peripheral vision. As per usual, it took almost no time for Gaster to recognize his colleague lingering at the door.

 _"COME."_ Gaster waved Sans inside perfunctorily.

He did step inside, though only by a few steps. With his body half-turned toward the door, as though to exit again, Sans informed his supervisor, _"i've got something to show you."_

 _"YOU WANT TALK WHAT YOU?"_ The Royal Scientist pointed first to Sans, then raised both palms upward while curling his fingers inward. His fists closed except for his pointer fingers, which he kept raised, and waggled front and back twice. Gaster pulled his hands out to his torso, flattened them, and raised the palms to the ceiling while simultaneously lowering his eyebrows, before finally returning to point at Sans one last time. _"What do you want to talk about?"_

 _"i just figured out how to time travel. as in, the real deal."_

Gaster did not betray much surprise, but Sans' long experience working with the physicist allowed him to read the pursed jaw and slightly-widened eyesockets. The hands twitching toward his rectangular glasses frames also betrayed excitement. _"WHAT?"_ This announcement was certainly not expected now… not even expected five years from now. Sans' claim certainly perked Gaster's interests.

 _"I SERIOUS."_ The skeleton gestured to himself with his pointer finger, then placed his finger on his chin and rotated it around once. _"follow me if you want to see, doc."_

 _"SHOW-ME."_ Resolutely, the Royal Scientist placed both of his palms on his desk to help push himself to his feet faster. He marched past the desk and lingered right behind Sans' neck, waiting – seemingly impatiently – for the shorter physicist to lead the way. Sans, with a grin, began to trundle down the hall, taking an easy, slow, casual stroll which almost made Gaster trip on his own feet. It would be undignified for Gaster to prompt Sans to hurry his pace, so he trod right behind Sans, barely a foot behind him.

Not only did Sans travel slowly, but his intended trajectory seemed hard to deduce. He stepped past several of the main labs on the top floor, waving to several scientists as he passed, and then turned twice more to the left to head back to the office area. It almost appeared as though Sans intended to complete a giant loop on this floor of the research building… and in fact, after very slowly trudging up the halls, he pointed his finger back at Gaster's door.

Gaster was distinctly displeased. He followed Sans back into the office, then whirled around, demanding, _"What was that?"_

 _"hey, before you get grouchy, look up."_ Sans pointed to the clock. Gaster's gaze followed the gesture, to where a round clock read ten past two.

 _"we left here at two. now it's ten past two. we just traveled forward through time ten minutes. pretty cool, huh?"_

Gaster's glare could have cooked a house down.

 _"with some more practice, i might be able to go even further forward in time."_

The glare intensified.

It only entertained Sans more. With reactions like that, Gaster should never have wondered why his colleague always pranked him.

 _"unrelated…"_ Sans said _"…but our latest test results came back negative. have a good afternoon, doc."_ And Sans reached out, shut the door behind Gaster, and walked, whistling, down the hall a second time.

* * *

 _[[File 6.3 GA-20060221-0-#]]_

 _"The Machine keeps breaking down. We don't have enough power."_

Rain, the designer of their still-unnamed "Machine", pointed to the corner of the laboratory where it was stored. Gaster calmly stepped forward, finger rubbing over his glasses for a moment, before he reached out and lightly stroked the Machine. His finger bones carefully examined the contraption, its modules, its circuits, its configurations. Rain handled the large bulk of engineering on the team, yet Gaster understood enough to provide a perfunctory examination of their now-broken equipment. Long, stick-bug form bent down, examined something close to the ground, then finally straightened.

 _"I AGREE."_ He pointed to his skull, then brought both hands forward before his chest, pointer fingers extended. _"The energy costs of this experimentation are naturally going to be high. I doubt there is a more efficient substitute?"_

Sans lingered in the back, unable to contribute to the conversation. He knew almost nothing about engineering – he _used_ equipment, not built it.

Rain, meanwhile, responded to Gaster. He shook his head and pinched his first two fingers against his thumb. _"NO."_ He could conclude this without doubt, having attempted a number of modifications on the Machine over the last few months. The results were always the same: breakage, experiments aborted from insufficient power. Their latest calculations suggested that nothing in the laboratory would be able to provide the required energy for their operations.

W. D. Gaster paced once around the machine, rubbing a thin finger to his forehead in thought, holding onto his elbow with the other hand. He glanced up, though, and pulled his hands before him to sign, _"We could hook your device directly to the CORE."_

Sans could only see the back of Rain's head, but even then, his colleague apparently hesitated. _"That… could work,"_ Rain slowly responded, a little uncertain if Gaster's proposal were wise. _"It's dangerous, though…"_

Gaster regarded Rain carefully. _"This may be the only to ensure the success of this project. Yet we cannot make foolish risk. What is your assessment on using the CORE, then?"_

Rain fidgeted for a moment. _"I'll look into it. It's worth looking into, I guess. But I don't think we could increase power and pass general safety protocols."_

 _"That does us no good then. Breaking safety measures undermines the very nature of our goal to save monsterkind."_

No longer glancing at the Machine, Gaster started stepping out of the lab. He made one more long comment before he exited, though. _"As much as it would disappoint me to see this research fail, we must be pragmatic. If this does not work, there are other avenues I can pursue to find a means of leaving the underground, amongst them pursuing harvest of human magic from the barrier proper, and developing the blasters. Make some safety calculations nevertheless. I will send you blueprints and energy reports from the CORE Royal Laboratory Branch. I'll see to it you receive the information by the end of the week."_


	9. 7: Restoration

**7\. Restoration**

 _[[File 7.1 SA-20150706-0-#]]_

Bleary eyes peered at the outline of a window. A glowing halo of light circled dark shades, indicating day had begun long ago, and he was waking sometime in the afternoon again. Today, though, Papyrus would entertain no visitors: Undyne would not return until she completed pressing duties in the capital; none of the Royal Guard would reinvestigate their kitchen; and that obliterated human _certainly_ would not step inside their house again. Sans would not hear any strange conversations downstairs as he struggled, as per every afternoon, to wake up.

Days would be returning to their typical, uneventful, quiet monotony.

An enormous, thunderous _boom_ echoed downstairs, the sort of noise that would only occur if an elephant were playing jump rope.

 _what the hell?_

Papyrus was apparently up to something.

Sans, curious, pulled himself away from his crumpled covers, slipped on his jacket, slid his feet into slippers, and dragged himself to the bedroom door. He needed to reach for the doorknob twice before he successfully grabbed it; then, upon stumbling outside, he attempted to make his way to the staircase.

He almost bumped straight into an enormous stack of cardboard boxes.

"uhhh… what?"

A flourishing cardboard city, complete with skyscrapers and a dramatic skyline, overtook the living room. Ceiling-high stacks engulfed every inch of what should have been carpet space. Apart from the couch, which wore more of a suit of armor of boxes than was actually _in_ a box, Sans could see none of the furniture. Even the ceiling-high leaning tower of pop cans had disappeared, replaced by a pillar of small, pop can-sized boxes, all meticulously stacked on top of one another in the exact arrangement the tin cans had been assembled. Only a narrow path weaved in between buildings, allowing careful godzillas to slip from the staircase to the door.

"what?" Sans spoke again. Sleepiness did not muddy this question; now widely awake, he asked the question with a sharpness he hoped could be heard by the person thumping in the kitchen.

"OH! YOU'RE AWAKE! FINALLY! ! !" Sans spied Papyrus tumble out of the kitchen. His brother nearly knocked over a twelve foot tall eastern district of the new cardboard city. Exuberantly, in an obviously good mood – both regarding what he was doing, and finally spying his late-rising brother – Papyrus exclaimed, "GOOD AFTERNOON, MY LAZYBONES BROTHER!"

"papyrus, could you please tell me what the hell is going on? why did you pack up the entire house? (and how did you do it so quickly? wow. do ya ever take a break?)"

"WE'RE MOVING!" This time Papyrus' excited gesture _did_ knock over items. His sweeping gloves smashed into the leaning tower of packed pop cans, scattering them everywhere, and showering the world in boxes.

"gee, bro, i know that yesterday upset you, but –"

"NO, NO, IT'S NOT THAT, SILLY! YOU'RE A HERO! YOU DID IT! ! ! THE UNDERGROUND IS FREE!"

For the infinite time since he had woken up, Sans said, "what?"

"I ADMIT. I'M STILL A LITTLE WEIRDED OUT THAT YOU ATTACKED THAT HUMAN LIKE THAT.

"WAS THAT NECESSARY! ! ?

"THEY WEREN'T DOING ANY HARM.

"AND HONESTLY, YOU ACTED IN EXTRAORDINARILY POOR HOSPITALITY, ATTACKING PEOPLE LIKE THAT.

"BUT ANYWAY!

"YOU CAN'T CHANGE THAT NOW!

"AND IT TURNS OUT THAT THE SHATTERED SOUL CAN BE USED TO OPEN THE BARRIER.

"ASGORE WILL OFFICIALLY BUST US OUT OF HERE ON FRIDAY!

"SO EVERYONE IS PACKING! ! !

"IT'S THE SURFACE FOR US! SNOWDIN 'SNOW' MORE!"

 _Snowdin snow more…_

Not blinking, barely seeing anything, Sans mumbled, "we're… free…"

Even though he had known attacking the human could lead to Asgore acquiring the seventh soul, that had not been his motivation in the moment. Furthermore, since the guards knew little of human SOULs and how long they could be preserved outside the body, there had been question about whether or not the latest human SOUL could be utilized in opening the barrier. To hear that the SOUL had arrived to New Home, that it could be _used_ along with Asgore's other six souls… that the dream Sans had dreamt his entire life would be realized… he could hardly believe it. It was actually happening.

"WE'RE FREE!"

He needed to verify for himself that the underground monsters were, indeed, _leaving_. Maybe it could help him process the news he had just learned.

"i'm ah, i'm uh… going outside. 'kay, papyrus?"

Somehow Sans careened through the city of cardboard, reached the front entrance, and staggered outdoors. The crisp, cold air of Snowdin assaulted him in the face, and the harsh brightness of the snow shining in mid-afternoon light forced him into a pained squint. He did not wait for his body to adjust, though; he advanced down the city street toward the center of town, staring wide-socketed at the abundant changes already accumulating throughout Snowdin.

The sleepy, small village had metamorphosed into a clambering world of over-ecstatic chaos, rabbits rushing over ice with mattresses carted over their ears, slimes rolling rugs out the front entrance, mice tumbling out of doors with stacked boxes, children rushing through the streets screeching excitedly rather than assisting in any of the packing. Half of everyone's belongings were pulled out of doors, set in the snow on top of towels and sheets. Doors swung up as more monsters tumbled outside with their belongings. Everyone jabbered as they worked. Noisy voices ricocheted through the open air. "We're finally going to see the stars, Marcy! The stars!" "No more fear! No more uncertainty! The surface awaits!" "The king is victorious! ASGORE saved us all!" "I can't believe it!" "I feel like a kid again!" "Aren't you happy?" "We're going to be free!" "What are you going to do when –" "Have you packed all the boxes in the –" "Don't forget to make an appointment with the River Person before –" "Come over here so we can –" "Tomorrow we'll –" "Oh my GOD, I can't wait to see the barrier officially broken! ! !"

Louder exclamations burst when he stepped past the villagers. "It's him!" Snowdin's sole shopkeeper exclaimed, pointing a white paw at him.

"Sans!"

"Sansy, you did it!"

"We can't thank you enough!"

A monster child rushed straight up to Sans, running so quickly they tripped on their feet and nearly crashed into his belly. "Yo!" they shouted out, dancing around the skeleton, completely unconcerned they had almost collided into someone else. "You fought a human!? Dude, you're sooooo cool!"

"heh, yeah, thanks kid." Sans smiled, waved, and attempted to squeeze past the conglomerating crowd. More than a few monsters – over half of them adults – ran directly up to Sans, reaching for him with excited paws and hands, shouts accompanying their gestures.

"I can't believe it! You saved us!"

"no prob." He tried forcing himself to move a little faster – a fast walk which made him almost trip on his slippers, but at the same time helped him successfully escape from Snowdin's residents. He turned around backwards, crashed into a mouse, choked out an apology, continued turning around, turning away from everyone, turning toward some open space where he could breathe, and then finally trotted off. Individuals he had known for years in Snowdin and had never interacted with; old drinking companions who considered Sans a lazy bag of trash; even monsters who previously eyed the skeleton with distaste – all of them clambered toward him frantically.

Overnight, his reputation had morphed from lazy sentry to monsterkind's greatest celebrity.

He needed escape. Escape _now._ Amidst the screams of "Thank you Sans!" and "We love you Sans!" and "You're going to free us, Sans!" he added his voice.

"i gotta go, you understand? see you guys all later?"

Somehow, they heard him. The scrambling continued, though thankfully with a little less fervor. Sans could locate the gaps in the crowd and maneuver through them.

He headed north into a quieter neighborhood district, forcing himself to keep his pace at a seemingly calm stroll, but let out an enormous, relieved exhale when he fled the main mass of monsters. He tended to maintain privacy over his ability to teleport, yet had he suffered through that any longer, he might have opted to vanish before everyone's eyes. Better that then watch someone like _Grillby_ greet him with enthusiastic thanks.

 _god. i mean… grillby… really?_

Was any of this _real_?

Sans stumbled further north. He needed silence to process all the information and drama. Still, even here in relative calm of the quiet residencies, he received many hearty waves and heartfelt thanks and signs of awkward hero worship. Every inch of the village had become overrun with monsters, all the streets well-worn with footprints, and even the bank of the riverside had become crowded with aspiring travelers. There would be no full escape… only patches of slightly fewer residents.

The one mob which failed to pursue him swarmed around a tall, black-cloaked figure, who sometimes responded to their requests for travel, but who at other times murmured absent-minded, seemingly nonsensical comments. That individual seemed completely unaware of the momentous news. "Hmm. I should have worn a million more pants today," they said instead. "Tra la la. The water is dry today." They could not have cared less that the entire underground would be leaving to the surface. They turned, glanced at the skeleton who stood at a distance, and made another off-hand nonsensical comment. "Beware the man who came from the other world."

Sans took two steps backward. He and Papyrus would need to speak to the River Person about transportation eventually, but he would need to steel himself for the occasion.

"Excuse me, mister skeleton sir… are you okay?"

He blinked, gathering he must have been grimacing at the distant River Person. Glancing toward the bear who now loomed to his left, he responded, somewhat distracted, "yeh. yeh. 'sall cool."

Sans backtracked down the streets, avoiding eye contact and hoping no one would bother him. He had seen enough. Papyrus was right. Everyone was packing to leave to the surface. Now… he needed time alone.

Able to breathe at last, he whirled to the back of his house and stumbled through accumulated, crunchy snowdrifts. Behind their main residence, he had built a small shop, one which few knew about, and of which only one person had seen the inside. The key to the shop he always carried on hand; he produced that key from his pocket now and fiddled with the door's sticky lock. It gave way after a moment's meddling. With a creak, it swung on its hinge, light sliding into an incredibly dark, tiled chamber.

Sans stepped inside.

Shut the door.

Flicked on the lights with the switch to his left side.

Incandescent bulbs flashed on, emitting both light and a faint buzzing sound. Shadows vanished, yet the musty sense of dark secrets remained. Sans slipped toward the counter drawers, also on his left side, and pulled out the nearest filing cabinet.

Though he had crammed innumerable papers into the small containment space, all jumbled, out of order, and crumpled with lack of care, the two sheets he needed rested regally on top of the junk. Neither paper bore creases nor crumples; the only sign of wear came from the natural fading of old photographs. Even then, he could still spy ever familiar face from Gaster's old team: the head Royal Scientist standing in the center of the back row, impeccably neat in laboratory white; Rain standing to the doctor's left with a hood half-covering his face; and Sans standing before both of them in the front row; more monsters, about two dozen in total, arranged neatly around them: Alphys, Donus, Huberta, Calibri, Marlett, Cynthia, _everyone_. All the researchers, Gaster included, were smiling.

Gingerly, Sans set the photograph down on the counter, then held the second slip of paper with both hands on the bottom corners. A child-like drawing depicted three individuals, though only Sans today knew who the artist had intended to sketch. Everyone else would only see pathetic blobby faces, sticks for arms, and some scribbles implying either jackets, fur coats, or an army of squirrels on each individual's arms.

At the bottom of the page, near some white space, Sans had added two words to the art.

"never forget."

He murmured the two words aloud now, staring at the pathetic illustration as though it were the perfect representation of his past, and that, if he reached out toward the drawing a little more, he could reenter a world he had left years ago.

Left physically, anyway, if not mentally.

Emotionally, he had never left this past behind.

A slow smile slipped onto his jaws. "hey guys, guess what," he informed the artwork. His tone was soft. "we did it. not the way any of us had planned, but… welp. we still did it."

Sans shook his head, closed his eyes, and laughed. It shook from deep inside his belly, but the chuckle did not travel all the way to his mind. He felt bittersweet more than happy in this moment.

"and right about the time i thought i had given up."

* * *

 _[[File 7.2 GA-19900901-19990526 0-# MW #]]_

He had never expected nine years at the university would be easy. Had never been so foolish as to believe it, even in part. Sans had in fact entered his planned degree trajectory with a level-headed acknowledgement his goal would be extraordinarily challenging to undertake and highly unlikely to be accomplished. If he were to successfully conquer even a quarter of his planned aspirations, then he would be beating all statistical odds.

They were large "ifs". _Very_ large "ifs". All he knew was he wanted to try. Thus far, all his pursuits had been enjoyable – why not head off for some more enjoyment and a chance to live his dreams? Regardless of whether or not he succeeded, his experienced would come to gain. And if he succeeded – in that rare, fat chance he succeeded – he could meet his long-admired hero face-to-face. It was time for him to try and pursue W. D. Gaster's footsteps. The Royal Scientist had been barred by no one, nothing, not even prior scientific theoretical knowledge, and if Sans wished to follow the great W. D. Gaster's path, then he could not let hindrances like statistical likelihoods deter his dreams.

Thus he was here.

On the far side of New Home standing on college campus.

His farewell to family had felt odd. Not as though he were leaving them completely behind… he still planned to visit weekends, to return home and bunk down in his old room for holidays… yet far different it would be to sleep most nights in university housing rather than stay with his mothers and brother.

Part of him thought he would like the quiet. A very young brother, in the midst of his toddler stage, usually caused quite a raucous… tantrums when angry, shrieks when excited, no babbling ever expressed in anything quieter than a boisterous shout… it detracted from Sans' preferred chill lifestyle. And in a place like college, he would have to begrudgingly work on homework between his snacks and free time. That would have been difficult with a crying three-year-old in the next room. Yet the first night in the dorm, staring up in the ceiling, he found himself unable to sleep. Mind ran amok with contradictory thoughts. Excitement to meet and mingle with classmates clashed with anxious thoughts and fears of failure. What was he getting himself into? He did not even know if he could succeed. School had been easy before… he had always casually coasted through classes and cracked jokes to fluster teachers… now would he had to find determination he'd never used to pass?

It was time to dive into textbooks. New equations, new theories, new information, new knowledge. Time to pour over practice sets and grow comfortable with variables. Protons, photons, neutrons, baryons. Wave vectors. Electromagnetic force. Inertia and angular acceleration and rotational power and density and drag and torque. Text book lines wavered from late night exhaustion; his eyelids began closing, him nodding off to near-sleep. He would force himself to continue working, avoiding eyesocket contact with the clock as its numbers changed from twelves to ones, regretting yet again for hanging out in the commons and cracking jokes with students until nine at night. Ugh. But he preferred those moments on campus to the ones with textbooks in the dorm room.

He must have been working hard _enough_ , though. Classmates commented upon it. "Dude, those are good grades. How do you work so hard _and_ have so much time to hang out?"

He preferred the hanging out. Certainly never skimped in that department. But grades mattered. They mattered to enter the university, and they would matter for graduate admissions. There would be no time for electives … not when the Bachelors would be only the beginning of the journey. Sans forced himself to study.

At least the weekends – sometimes – offered respite. Sans would not let college pass him by – he had to have _some_ good fun. After classes ended for the week, he could head the undergraduate university hot spots, the cafés where all the young adult students gathered, and mingle with the crowd. There would be drinks, greasy pizza, and laughter there. Always good to step outside campus for something like that, especially as he was the one who typically provided all the stories and laughter. Sometimes, if the homework load truly were low, he could delve into other random explorations outside of obligated school assignments – practice a few hand signs, just the basics, _PLEASE_ and _THANK YOU_ and _HELLO_ and _YOU_ and _I_ – or rent a tape from the library of one of Doctor Gaster's rare old public lectures. He would eagerly consume the subtitles on the bottom of the screen, every mention of the newly-constructed CORE and the projections on how its power generation would revolutionize monster society, despite the fact Sans currently comprehended a mere fraction of the physics terminology. It still excited him. This was _Doctor Gaster – THE Doctor Gaster._ And of course, at irregular intervals, he could return home to the hoots of an overecstatic brother, excited to see him once more. Wow, but Papyrus was growing fast.

And it is not as though university semesters were void of fun. Even amidst laboratory reports and half-hearted TA recitations and multiple choice exams and ignored "required" readings, he could always find time for pranks. Hell, he could _apply_ his latest coursework content in the ends of tormenting his roommate. He did not know which unit he enjoyed more when it came to dorm room mischief: lasers or acoustics. Probably acoustics. No one in the north dorm wing – first, second, third, _and fourth_ floors – forgave him for that stunt with the trombone. The south wing probably hated him, too. The flatulent noises had carried… uh… further than anticipated.

An introductory level physics course paved way to deeper studies. Electricity and Magnetism. Advanced Classical Mechanics. Thermodynamics and Statistical Mechanics. And those, in turn, built upwards. Mathematics advanced. Calculus III and Differential Equations. The nights lengthened, sleep decreased.

Yet still he would find time to hang out in the commons, cracking jokes with companions. And yet still he would find the time to slink to the dormitory commons room, slip in a tape, and again watch Doctor W. D. Gaster on the television screen. Even if it were the same tape as he had watched the prior year, he could comprehend the information more deeply with subsequent viewings… from new knowledge from courses, or better practice with sign language… the semi-vague jumble of scientific jargon took concrete shape.

Birthdays passed, and semesters. It was time to start attending colloquia – they encouraged it, for the upper class undergraduates, especially those seeking to continue onto a Masters and PhD. And it was time for the Honors Thesis, and seeking out an advisor, and a topic to research on his own. Could he complete a Concurrent Masters and Bachelors at the same time in four years? He needed to make with his adviser again about degree requirements. And after all that work, he would need to write and submit an application to the one and only graduate program in the tiny underground. Four years nearly finished. At least four more to go.

"Wanting to work under Doctor Gaster? Wow, that'd be something."

He remembered shaking in his bedroom at home, family hovering outside, as he handled an envelope in his hand from the University of the Underground Monster Kingdom. His fingers bones rattled so shakily he could barely tear open the seal. The paper just kept slipping. Slipping, over and over. When his phalanges finally cooperated enough to manage the task of opening up the envelope, something which took well over five painful minutes, his fingers fumbled over the stationary inside and dropped it to the ground. Of course. He bent down, picked it up, and smoothed the paper out to read the top line carefully. With a barking laugh he rushed out of his room and nearly crashed into Papyrus, who, just recently turned seven, could not quite comprehend the ecstatic hubbub. Yet his brother nevertheless beamed widely, and shouted with all his might, "YAY SANS! GOOD JOB! ! ! I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT! ! !"

It was five more years of education, five more years in cramped student housing on the far side of New Home. It was five more years tripping through a grimy apartment floor piled in mountains of printed research articles, hardcover library books, and dirty laundry. It was five years of increased responsibilities; of running laboratories and tests for university funded research; of teaching assistanceships, office hours, recitations, and grading assignments; of near-sleepless nights and coffee binges; of colloquia and conferences and department meetings and private office times with professors.

Undergraduate had been simple. Undergraduate had been nice. There had been time to head to the movie theatre in central New Home on Friday nights, or an occasional party off-campus, or at least a great prank with which to wreak the dorm halls. It might have felt busy – it _was_ busy in comparison to high school – yet nothing could have prepared him for the onslaught of the doctoral program. Responsibilities overwhelmed. Teaching, studying, personal researching… he could not find the time for even one of those tasks, let alone all three.

 _am i good enough to do this? do i even_ want _to do this? is five years of misery worth it… just for the_ possibility _of interning in the royal labs?_

It was an easy question to ask, and an even harder one to answer. Sans had known his dreams would be hard. But that didn't mean he enjoyed this reality.

And as the question cycled through, he continued through the barrage of tasks. The second year generals paper somehow completed itself. He found himself in his adviser's office, proposing a dissertation topic. He remembered her gaping back at him, jaw slack, and emphasizing, "It will either be groundbreaking research… or a bust."

Had the great Royal Scientist Doctor Gaster ever felt like this?

He felt subconscious of the name on his latest publication. C. S. Serif. A mimic of W. D. Gaster. Of his chosen subfield, Quantum Mechanics – a field in which Doctor Gaster had recently begun serious undertakings. The one, _one_ , elective he had chosen – to finally learn sign language formally – in preparation of a career he might never begin, let alone develop. The crushing weight of dissertation responsibilities overwhelmed.

It was easy to lose sight of himself in this world.

Somehow something always renewed him. He continued through the academic onslaught, this academic hell, with last-minute renewed vigors fueling him. A compliment from his adviser buoyed him to read another five papers that week on his self-chosen research pursuits. An ambitious student expressed interest in Sans' ideas. And even once the Royal Scientist himself deigned to present at the university.

He and one other researcher from the New Home Royal Laboratory Branch stepped into the lecture hall with a sense of collected familiarity. Sans had heard the name of the other presenter, too, an esteemed elderly physicist called Doctor Donus, yet his eyesockets could not peel away from the Royal Scientist – his hero here in life. Doctor Wings Dings Gaster, stoic as he appeared in the tapes, glanced up unconcernedly, with almost disinterest, toward the gathering student crowd, while at the same time adjusted a neat black tie hanging from his neck. Despite his tall height, Gaster almost appeared… _smaller_ … than expected – perhaps because of his spindly skeletal width. But the intelligent, calculating expression in his eyesockets; the steady gaze behind the glasses; the confident, straight-backed poise; the smooth swoop of his hands as he signed: it was all for which had Sans had hoped, and more.

The slides from the lecture passed too quickly. Too soon did Gaser and his interpreting colleague step away from the podium. The question-and-answer session from the crowd quickly lapsed into Gaster packing his supplies and heading, with a gracious and even nod, out of the building. Donus stayed longer for the reception, and at this period answered questions; Sans shuffled up to introduce himself, knowing any networking could be the difference between failed expectations and a goal achieved. At least externally, he could keep his nervousness in check.

"You want to work in the Royal Labs? That's quite an undertaking! What's your field of study?" "Sounds like quite the ambitious dissertation. Impressive." "Let's see… there's internships that occasionally pop up at the labs that recent graduates could take. It could happen? Keep your eyes open, you never know, son."

But an even more inspiring comment came later.

"Absolutely keep pursuing your goal. You could get it, right, maybe, son? I don't know anyone who hates the Royal Labs. Working under Gaster? It's a treat. It's a real treat. Don't let his passive glare make the wrong impression – he's the best Royal Scientist since I've been around, and not just because of his research. Great guy. You keep it up. Okay? Good meeting you – was it – Sans, was it?"

Back to the drone of everyday graduate student research – but he felt as though he were floating through clouds. Anything felt achievable. Leaving the underground. Working with Doctor W. D. Gaster. A realm of infinite possibilities opened.

And slowly. Slowly. Very slowly. The research developed. A grant from the royal family provided breathing room from teaching, allowing more time to squelch through variables and constants. One did not research an entire subfield of quantum physics for a dissertation, but a small subject, a tiny, tiny subject, which could be expanded in depth to infinite proportion. He had found his topic. Had found his element. Integrating unconventional uses of monster magic with the principles of quantum teleportation appeared promising… very… very… promising.

He could feel the same excitement soaring when he returned two years later from the interview. Sans could hardly care he had forgotten some simple signs. In his nervousness, he had barely even found enough presence of mind to fingerspell _physics_ – it might have come out _pysict_ – but the meeting's ending comments overrode any embarrassing errors he had made. He rushed home to his apartment, only to change into more comfortable clothing, and then rushed to the department offices to peal out the good news.

The secretary's landline was ringing when Sans stepped toward his adviser. It was hard not to trot, he felt so giddy. This was it. This was it. After nine years of striving for the impossible, he had made it. He had made it officially into the Royal Labs. Here was finally the moment of incredible news; nothing could spoil this moment.

The secretary's voice was mere white noise in the background as he tripped over the unbelievable news to his old professor. Only when he was tapped on the back of his shoulder did he turn around. The secretary was holding out the phone to him.

"Sans? Sans? They say you have to take the call now. They've been trying to contact you for an hour."

 _Who was "they" and what did they need from him?_

"It's urgent."

He placed the receiver near the external acoustic meatus of his skull and listened to a voice he did not recognize. His eyesockets gutted to black.

The funeral was scheduled a week later.

* * *

 _[[File 7.3 GA-19991214]]_

He shuffled at the doorway, adjusting his tie for at least the twelfth time. It was unlike him to fidget, yet the formal attire restricted his neck too much for comfort, and fiddling with it allowed him focus on something other than the impending end of the year evaluation. He would be surprised if that evaluation were any more pleasant than the collared shirt and slacks beneath his lab jacket. It would be worse. Sans dared not look inside the folder he held with his other hand, down at his side; it would need to be opened soon enough, and he would suffer with the contents then, those unpleasant sheets of paper. And so here he anxiously stood, on the other side of Doctor W. D. Gaster's thick blue office door, awaiting an ill-omened experience.

In the half-year since he had begun working in the Royal Laboratory New Home Facility, he had learned little of his supervisor, the highly esteemed Royal Scientist W. D. Gaster. He knew a few things, sure. He favored formality, signing precisely if fluently, and treated coworkers with professional dignity. He remained cool and collected. He received great respect and loyalty from his teams. He maintained a meticulously neat laboratory station and office, not a flask or paper out of place. He drank tea, not coffee. He liked turtlenecks. He left his office door opened a crack when he worked inside, allowing him to catch sight of any scientists who wished to step in and discuss something with him. Only for private meetings, or when he was out of office, did he shut the door completely.

Sans knew _that_ mundane information, plus what the common populace knew of Doctor Gaster. He created the CORE, revolutionized energy throughout the underground. He was a genius. Best Royal Scientist in a century, some stated. Best Royal Scientist since the position had been instituted, others believed. Regardless, a remarkable man, if one rather closed off and difficult to comprehend. But even with his limited knowledge of Doctor Gaster, Sans suspected tonight he would receive the doctor's less pleasant side… however that would play out.

He could feel the manila folder burning at his side.

The door opened.

An elderly biologist – Dr. Albertus, Sans believed – waddled out the door with a wave to Gaster. The Royal Scientist himself had opened the door, and now stood there, peering at Sans from the other side of the door frame, evaluating the shorter skeleton head to toe. Sans stood there self-consciously for a moment before tucking his folder under his arms and signing, hesitantly, _good afternoon._ He realized after he had signed, he probably should have added a "sir" – yet even during his long tenure in academia, he had never been one to be formal, and that habit had never been established.

 _too late now,_ Sans though as Wings Dings Gaster turned aside and silently stepped back to his office desk. As always, only a few papers rested on its wood; the only items present now, resting dead center, was an opened file and its contents, several laboratory reports paper clipped together.

Sans tugged at his collar one more time before taking a seat across from Gaster. The tie wasn't tightening, was it?

His supervisor reached out a hand for Sans' folder and took it without comment. He opened it, added it to the papers already on his desk, and perused it calmly for a moment. Sans sought to read the expression beneath Gaster's rectangular glasses. Nothing. He could read nothing. Stoic passiveness, through and through, as always.

At last the Royal Scientist lifted up his neck and looked Sans eyesocket to eyesocket.

 _"How would you describe your first half year working with the Royal Laboratories?"_ Doctor Gaster finally inquired.

Though he had anticipated the question, even anticipated this would be the opening question, Sans still did not relish answering it. The response would be a half-truth, at best, not cocky, but certainly favoring the better sides of his half year than honestly looking at his mistakes. Not only was this the job position he had dreamed of for a decade, but he needed it. He needed it. He thought of the cramped apartment back home.

In broken sign, with more than a few finger-spelled words, Sans answered, _"it's been a great learning experience. i feel like i've gotten settled in the labs. i should be able to keep building my skills for greater success. i think last project's… learning experience…"_ a euphemism for 'failure' _"…could give me better ideas for…"_ What could he say? He restarted with a new sentence. _"i can…"_

Not rudely, but still with poise, Doctor Gaster held up his hand and signaled Sans to quit speaking. _"You and I both know you are not pleased with your first months at the laboratory. I understand the professional tactic of speaking about mistakes as 'learning experiences' and focusing on the positive to save face, but there is no need for that delicacy here. We can continue henceforth with this evaluation meeting speaking bluntly about the specifics of your performance quality."_

Sans spelled out two letters. _"OK."_

 _"You would agree, I think,"_ said Gaster, glancing down again at the papers on his desk, _"that you could have performed better and more consistently. Your reports demonstrate signs of being hastily written, marked in typos, sentence fragments, and a marked lack of capitalization. More concerning, the quality of work is substandard to laboratory measurements, with a lot of mathematical errors, miscalculations, and deficient literature reviews. Several experimental trials within your teams have been discarded due to preventable errors you committed. Little progress and headway has been made in your assigned areas, and while any research runs into rough patches that cannot be predicted, the lack of progress here moreso appears to come from lack of time spent working on the task. Are these all fair claims to make?"_

Sans covered an eyesocket and rubbed at his forehead, forcing himself to inhale and exhale steadily. At last he rose his left hand, placed it into a fist, and bobbed it up and down at the wrist. _"YES."_ As doleful of a list Gaster had presented, nothing had been presented unfairly. It was, by all accounts, a rather accurate summary of Sans' first half year as a government funded researcher.

He waited for the reprimand.

 _"I can nevertheless tell you are trying hard,"_ said Gaster instead.

Sans, who had begun to slump, straightened in his seat. He frowned in surprise.

 _"I see you enter the laboratory tired every morning, and watch you leave long after most of the members on your team have turned off the lights of their stations. You're working significant overtime. I have spoken to your colleagues, and they share with me you seem stressed and burdened with more than occupational concerns."_ He paused for a moment to tap thoughtfully at his desk. He continued. _"I have reason to suspect your mediocre performance is not based on any lack of integrity on your part; I know you are capable of much, having seen the work you produced at your university. That was exemplary. Groundbreaking, even. Your attention is divided, and there are other situations putting you behind on work."_

Sans did not know how to respond. He found himself awkwardly bobbing his head, somewhat in a shake, somewhat in a nod. He did not quite know what he was doing.

Delicately, W. D. Gaster closed the folders and set them aside. He clasped his hands briefly together, stared out of the corner of his glasses in thought, and then said, _"I hold much faith in your abilities, Sans. It is impossible for anyone, even the most determined of individuals, to pursue their work steadily with no mistake. All experience rough patches. As your supervisor, it is none of my professional business to know that with which you struggle. That said, if I know, perhaps I can assist you with accommodations to quicker help you back on your feet."_

With wide eyesockets, Sans stared at the doctor. He had… he had not expected this. Of all the possible transpirings he had anticipated, this… _definitely_ had not been one of them.

 _"i guess…"_ he answered slowly, _"…i would like that."_

 _"Shall we do it over tea and coffee?"_ The Royal Scientist was already standing, shucking off his laboratory coat, and replacing it with a long brown jacket.

 _"what about your other meetings?"_

 _"I scheduled yours last in the day. If you remember, I insisted upon it, for precisely this anticipated reason."_

Overwhelmed, embarrassed, but simultaneously touched, Sans signed, simply, _"THANKS."_

They headed out the laboratory doors together – or rather, Doctor Gaster strode on ahead, with Sans a few feet behind him – until at least Gaster lingered in the door, holding it open for Sans, and waiting for his colleague to catch up. They stepped together out into the cold, gray New Home cobbled streets, five story high buildings rising to either side of them, stores crammed next to apartment complexes squeezed between studios and offices. A sense of cold, drippy dampness blanketed the area – an almost constant weather, given the structure of the cave they lived in. Gaster calmly placed hands in pockets and strolled down the street in a clearly pre-planned direction, turned left at a block, and only at that point glanced back to ascertain Sans had followed him. On his shorter legs, Sans had trotted to keep up, but had indeed maintained pace with the doctor.

It seemed strange to find Doctor Gaster in an environment outside the laboratory floors, wearing something other than white, attending to other business besides physics and research journals. He remained stoic, still, and calm… though perhaps more personable than the neutral-faced skeleton reading p-values.

A small café hunkered beneath oversized gray eaves. Two worn, circular maroon-topped tables stood on either side of the restaurant entrance, which was itself painted in the same faded maroon. Gaster leaned into the door to open it, then gestured for Sans to step in first. Sans' black shoes clopped against black tiles indoors. _"Tea or coffee?"_ Gaster asked.

It took him a moment to process Gaster had asked him a question. Sans had been too busy glancing around the interior, taking in the small dark gray front counter, the dainty round tables and chairs, black and white checkered floor, and the furry long-eared store owner attending to her apron. He hastily responded. _"coffee. just plain black is not fine. wait."_ Sans shook his head. _"you're not_ paying _, are y…"_

Yet W. D. Gaster had already sauntered up to the barista and written down his order, handing the sheet of paper to a monster who clearly recognized him. She nodded once before turning to her machines and preparing the drinks.

 _"This is, as far as I see it, a 'work meeting',"_ Gaster excused. _"I cannot have employees paying for the provisions. Find us a table, preferably one near the windows."_

Sans, increasingly flabbergasted, and trying to hide his surprise with a polite smile, turned away from his boss and headed toward the corner of the room. Yet another round maroon table greeted him there. He sat down on a chair, glanced over at Gaster, and waited. In his head, he rehearsed what he would need to say.

When Gaster sat down with the mugs, he was ready. Sans still felt awkward admitting this aloud to Doctor Gaster – of all individuals – yet at the same time, it would feel relieving to discuss _why_ he had struggled in work of late. By explaining this, Sans could reestablish himself as a credible worker to the Royal Scientist, rather than an individual who had been lacking. In truth, even if Gaster had not so kindly offered… all of this… Sans might have tried to squeak in the excuse to make himself look better. But now, here, in this situation, he could finally end the cringing and poor excuses which had characterized his last six months.

 _"it's… i'm fine. basically, i'm not taking care of just myself. i've got to look after family."_

 _"Son or daughter?"_

Sans barked a short laugh at the thought, though he supposed he was more than old enough to be a father. Weird. He couldn't imagine it. _"no. younger brother,"_ he corrected. _"we have… a bit of an age gap. fourteen years. so…"_

 _"A teenager."_

 _"thereabouts. twelve. so, anyway."_ Sans heaved out a large breath. _"it's the two of us."_ It had only recently come down to just two of them, though Sans did not need to speak _that_ candidly with Gaster.

The doctor looked into his cup of tea but did not drink from it. He nodded thoughtfully as he adjusted his glasses. _"Your choices and actions are commendable,"_ he told Sans. _"I understand. Firsthand I know it is challenging work caring, in addition to oneself, dependents and family."_

 _"you have kids…?"_ Sans trailed in shock. For some reason, he had not envisioned Gaster as a family man. Hurriedly, he corrected himself, _"sorry. that was personal. my mistake."_

 _"Two daughters and a son."_ He pulled out a photo from his wallet, for just a second, to show a smiling family. Well, maybe Gaster's expression did not constitute a smile. His jaw was no more a smile than normal, though perhaps his eyes seemed more relaxed and less reserved than he appeared in the workplace. Even with his family, it appeared he only knew one facial expression. Sort of cute. _"But I don't do it alone. I can understand why you are distracted and tired when you come to the labs. You work yourself hard."_

An off-handed wave. _"i guess so."_

 _"Certainly so. I propose a solution. Though a new employee to the Royal Laboratories, you have been designated a part of multiple ambitious projects. Quantity of work, however, falls second to quality. I will take you off two of your current teams and leave you with the most pertinent project. This should give you less strain keeping on top of the project, as well as give you more space at home after work hours to spend time with your brother. He's welcome in your work station, by the way, so long as he does not tamper or in any way… modify… the current research, or distract others at work. So, then, Doctor Serif, how do you find this plan?"_

 _"you didn't have to do this for me."_ Sans found himself rubbing both hands on his forehead again.

 _"On the contrary, I find this very important,"_ said Gaster. _"The Royal Laboratories improve the lives of citizens throughout the underground, and the greatest projects even seek a means of breaking the barrier early. Our work is more than research. It is service. I want nothing more than to save every life in the underground. The least I can do is relieve some stress from a colleague._

 _"Work hard, Sans. Do not overexert. Do not worry about where this will head. You will do well. I have my suspicions you shall lead the way to one of the underground's greatest discoveries. But we'll do this together. It is always important to fight for each other."_


	10. 8: Mentor

**8\. Mentor**

 _[[File 8.1 GA-20060317-0-_ _#_ _MW]]_

"I have n-n-never, in all my life, thought I'd see someone t-t-T-T-TACKLE Doctor Gaster!"

"i'm sure not. hey, i'm pretty impressed with myself too."

A young lizard, younger even than Sans, had timidly crept alongside him. He recognized her from last week's collision, the poor doctor who accidentally stumbled in way of Sans and the head Royal Scientist. Even if the stutter in her voice had not betrayed her nervousness, the manner in which she hunched herself over – as though bending in a constant cringe – manifested her current level of discomfort. Sans wondered how she even found the nerves to approach him at all.

"uh, sorry 'bout knockin' you over," he added belatedly, hoping his prior flippant joke would not set the fragile soul running.

"It's f-f-fine." She twisted her lips into a bucktoothed grimace. She probably meant to produce a smile, but in her state of social unease, could not successfully grin. Instead, her entire face, from thick round glasses to the tip of her lips, contorted awkwardly. "You were obviously in a… rush?"

"yyyyyyeah. gaster was, anyway." Sans' words morphed to chuckles halfway through his comment. He would be laughing for years about that incident. Unfortunately, he could not relay the entirety of the incident to this other doctor; though she worked beneath the Royal Scientist, too, only Sans, Gaster, and Rain were authorized to know about the current time travel experiments.

He switched the conversation. "so. hey." Sans slipped his hands into his laboratory coat pockets, carefully feeling along the edges of the lining to ascertain he carried a needed item. He found it there, in his left pocket, inflated as he hoped. "i know i've seen you around in the labs before, but im not sure we've actually met."

"N-no, I d-don't think we have."

He held out his hand. "the name's sans. sans the skeleton."

"Doctor Alphys." She grabbed his hand. The whoopee cushion delivered, an enormous fart sound ringing through the halls.

Eyes widened, she jerked backwards, nearly stumbling onto her rear.

Sans laughed. He twisted his left hand, revealing the toy in his hand. "whoopee cushion in the hand. sorta funny, huh?"

"Uh. Y-y-y-yeahhhh." The wince on her face was genuine now. "You… like… _teasing_ people, don't you?"

"all in good fun. so long as it doesn't hurt anybody, i enjoy finding a couple o' laughs. "but anyway.

"alphys, was it?"

"Yeah."

"that's a cool name. what do you do here, alphys?"

"Oh, I only j-just begun." She appeared to be relaxing slightly, though, given that Sans had taken interest in her. "I finished up my d-d-d-doctorate last spring, and just got hired to work here in the Royal Labs."

"congrats."

"Well, I'm little more than an intern, right now." Her eyes fell to the floor, a little abashed.

"hey. it's a big deal getting here at all. you'll do just fine. gaster doesn't hire _anybody_ , you know." Sans swept his hands around the entire laboratory, taking in the hallways they could see, and the windows bordering the outside of one of the main research facilities. "if he picked you, it means you've got great promise."

She scooped her eyes off the floor and used them to stare bug-eyed at Sans. Though she should have comprehended the importance of her position upon becoming hired, the skeleton's remarks apparently impacted her. "You think s-s-s-s-so?"

"i know so. i've been working here almost four years, and in that time, i've been way lucky. i've worked closely with gaster and gotten to know the ole doc real well."

"I've only s-spoken to him twice, m-m-maybe. Once since the interview. He seemed really… c-c-closed off to me… and I guess it makes me… worried… he…"

Sans clapped her on the back before she could trail down a path of uncertainty and self-doubt. "don't worry about it," he insisted. "he's the most introverted person i've ever met. he doesn't wear his soul on his sleeve, either. …more like, keeps the same expression on his face 99 percent of the time.

"but that doesn't mean he's cold. he cares. in fact, i'd say gaster cares more than most people. he might be untalkative, and he might be awkward, but he'd do _anything_ to get us out of this hole. i've never seen someone so determined to break the barrier and reach the surface.

"i came straight out of grad school to work here, too. just like you. he didn't care about my age. he saw my thesis. found it interesting. hired me right away, and… well… we've been working together ever since. dare i say it, he's become somewhat of a mentor to me. definitely a friend.

"so if you're here, he believes in you. he thinks that you can change the future for the better.

"you'll be fine, alphys. trust me."

She remained silent, soaking in his words.

"i, uh, accidentally rambled there. didn't i?" Sans shrugged and pulled out a sheepish grin. He was unaccustomed to talking so much at once, and only now realized he had gone off on a long lecture.

"N-n-no, no, it was g-good. It was good," she responded. Her voice was soft. "I needed to hear that."

They looked at one another, both surprised the conversation had delved so deep. With a renewed cringe, Alphys mumbled, "I sh-should get going back to w-work, n-now."

"same. see you around?"

"See you around."

* * *

 _[[File 8.2 CO-200X-0-_ _#_ _MW]]_

"I'M TELLING YOU, SANS, UNDYNE IS THE COOLEST!"

Sans turned his attention from the quiet Snowdin streets to his brother's wide grin. As always, he cherished these calm, relaxing moments with his counterpart. "heh. ain't no one cooler than you, papyrus."

"WELL." Papyrus paused, mulling through this challenging speculation. "I HATE TO ADMIT IT, BUT MAYBE YOU'RE RIGHT FOR ONCE! ? ?

"THERE _IS_ NO ONE COOLER THAN THE GREAT PAPYRUS!

"NYEH HEH HEH HEH HEH! !

"BUT UNDYNE STILL IS VERY COOL! ! !

"YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN HER AT MY LESSONS TODAY! !"

The brothers approached their house, and Sans stepped forward to open the door for Papyrus. Snow covered Sans' jacket head to toe, but dripped to the floor as he shuffled through the entryway. A minor avalanche entered the house behind him. "i take it you learned some cool tricks today?"

Typically, Papyrus would have scolded Sans for trailing wet snow into the house and damaging the carpet. However, in such a state of elation, Papyrus appeared not to notice, dancing outside as he stomped the snow off his own boots, and responding, "I DID! ! ! AND UNDYNE TELLS ME I AM A NATURAL!

"SHE TOLD ME, TO QUOTE, 'WELL, THAT COULD HAVE BEEN WORSE, I SUPPOSE.'"

Chuckling, and not daring to correct Papyrus about the actual semantics behind Undyne's message, Sans responded, "papyrus, that's great. you should show me sometime. maybe teach me a few moves?"

Papyrus' brows furrowed. Of course he seemed suspicious at the suggestion. "YOU? LEARN SOME SPARRING MOVES?"

Sans tried to appear natural with his shrug. It caused another enormous snowball to slide off his shoulders and splat to the floor. "sure, why not?" he answered. "you've said it yourself i could do with some training and exercise."

He began to saunter up the stairs toward his room. His fingers fumbled with a small device hidden in his coat pocket. He needed to check the number on the meter. "just don't… work me too hard, will ya, bro? i'm not looking to be in the royal guard like you are."

* * *

 _[[File 8.3 GA-20040515-0-_ _#_ _MW]]_

"Attention everyone!"

A small monster with a self-important puffed-up chest marched to the center of the laboratory and shouted those words as loudly as possible. A few curious heads poked out from offices while others casually paused their work. Not everyone paid heed to the speaker, though; some individuals continued to step about their business, carting stacks of paper to their desks, or elsewise peering closely at the materials in their lab station.

The next words, though, caught _everyone's_ attention.

"Gaster's practicing."

Scientists threw printouts to the floor. Experimenters shoved themselves away from countertops and researchers rocketed out of desk chairs. Everyone immediately stampeded to the same stairwell, charging downstairs with animated whoops. Sans shuffled behind the main populace, though even his step quickened at the thought of watching Gaster in action. It always excited everyone – and for good reason.

He could hear the shudder of wall supports and feel intense, earthquake-esque vibrations even before he reached the basement floor. That noise strengthened into dramatic high-pitched cracks, whip-like snaps, baritone blasts, and an overarching screech from hell. An underground tornado ripped through the laboratory, and everyone hustled to watch it. Crowds squeezed through the door into a medium-sized chamber, and all scientists lined themselves up against the wall around the outer edges.

No one had considered the room would be used for sparring. Sans suspected the basement had been designated as extra storage space originally, but once Gaster had begun this personal "side project" of his, monsters had hastily cleared the room for practice. No furniture, no equipment, nothing except a perimeter of _people_ occupied the space. Sans, finally reaching the room, sneaked along the edges and placed himself next to Rain, the only scientist sitting cross-legged on the floor, and murmured a quiet, "hey." Rain seemed to be drawing idly, glancing somewhat at Gaster, but mostly attempting to draw a cat. _Maybe_ it was a cat.

Sans could not care what his colleague sketched. His eyes gravitated to the center of the room, where indeed, he could not glance away from the cyclone in action. No electric lights lit up the room, but bright, bursting magic exploded through the space in arrays of shooting stars. Gaster shot firecrackers into the room's center; they erupted forth like mushroom clouds; and then, twirling on a foot, left arm outstretched, he let loose a string of gaping-jawed skulls. Twenty pinwheels simultaneously blasted beams of laser light. Skulls snapped at magic pellets in a shark-like feeding frenzy. A universe of battling magical heads cycled in fast-paced, rotating galaxies. The spectacle overwhelmed the eyes.

And in the center of it all, Gaster danced. Not fought, but _danced._ Feet lightly trotting through the midst of Armageddon pellet wars, fingers delicately slipping around skulls vomiting death rays, the scientist orchestrated every movement. He conducted rapid orbits around his head, streaming in circles from foot to head. He directed complex corkscrews of blasting jaws. Everywhere he pointed, the shooting skulls attacked dancing magic pellets, striking and successfully demolishing every target. The whole world lit in white as his blasters whirled like hurricanes.

With one final, dramatic clap of light, the skulls and their quarry vanished.

Everyone burst into applause. Hands outstretched, the scientists wildly clapped for the Royal Scientist's incredible display. Gaster nodded, a polite but genuine smile coming across his lips, and he took the moment to bow three times: once to the west, once to the east, once to the north.

 _"That was an enjoyable diversion,"_ he signed, though not everyone understood the language. Those who comprehended his message quickly translated for the others. _"Back to work now, I'm afraid."_

No one seemed disappointed to return to their workspaces. Instead, they happily gabbed as they filed out of the room. "He could beat _twenty_ monsters at the same time!" "What incredible control!" "Those Gaster blasters are going to _completely_ revolutionize Encounters!"

 _"Sans."_

Before the skeleton could leave the room himself, Gaster hailed his partner, and gestured for his colleague to approach.

 _"ME?"_ Sans pointed to himself, uncertain, but when Gaster again beckoned, Sans obliged. He had heard Gaster speak about this project, but Sans had never been involved with it. He did not quite comprehend the nature of the hailing.

At least Gaster was always blunt and quick to the point. _"What do you think of the blaster project?"_ Despite the nature of the question, Gaster seemed in the mood for casual conversation, not professional evaluation. Sans would not be able to explain how he could tell, other than that he had spent so much time with Gaster both at the laboratory and in casual settings, that he could tell the subtle distinction. Here, he was being approached as a friend.

 _"it's very dramatic."_

Gaster rolled his eyesockets, unimpressed. _"…Besides that?"_

It took a little time for Sans to contemplate a response. At last, though, he signed, _"to be frank, i just want to know how you have time to do everything. you're working on the time travel project with rain and me. you're supervising five other team research projects. you have your own 'free time' projects like this one. yikes. that's crazy bones. you keep telling us to take breaks so we'll feel rested. how do you manage?"_

 _"I don't overwork myself, if that is what you mean to imply."_ The glare turned into something more… concerned… though. Gaster glanced down at his hands, took a few paces idly around the room, and then continued to sign. _"Though I do admit I have increasingly little time patience for rest or recreation."_

 _"rain would like that pictionary game about now, doc. i know your art's even worse than his, but…"_

 _"What can I say?"_ That was as much frustration as Gaster would ever self-express. He might not have intended to vent to Sans, but now he was signing the full unrestrained barrage. _"Sans, I can't afford to idle. Downtime bores me, and if I ever find free time, I make up my own projects to fill in the gaps. You know I can't do_ nothing. _And yet, I am forced in a tiny, claustrophobic corner of the underground where there is nothing to do except try to escape. In this short life that I will live… I need to make it fulfilling. I need to make it count. I need to_ do _something."_

 _"you've done more than a hundred monsters combined. believe me. people revere you as much as gerson."_

 _"But it's not enough."_ Fervor – and frustration – overtook Gaster's eyesockets. He frowned behind his glasses. _"You? Your brother? Sunny? The kids? They deserve better than this. We_ all _deserve better than this. I have dedicated my life to scientific exploration in order to break the barrier and give us that betterment. That is my one goal in life. If I can do that, I will be satisfied."_ He stared about the room, now empty, but memories remained of the magical chaos which had ensued a moment before. It was still so easy to see hundreds of blasters cycling in a fast-paced rushing constellation.

Sans did not know how to respond.

 _"As much as I hope our time travel experiments will be successful, there has been a halt in progress. A dead stop, if I may be honest. It appears as though there is no method to generate enough power for what we would try to do. Even if we did move Rain's machinery to the CORE and break safety protocols to boost energy levels, there is no guarantee that the next step of the experiment would work."_

 _"and that experiment would be dangerous, too,"_ Sans said. Their experiments with macroscopic nonliving objects had proven to be a success. They had successfully transported large objects to parallel worlds. Yet the next step would be to attempt the process with something living. If they failed… well… there would be no guarantee the test subject survived the process.

 _"I hesitate to pursue this forward. You understand I may cancel this project?"_

Sans nodded.

 _"I know that this approach might fail. Most research ends this way – with inconclusive results or some other motivation to pursue a new path. That is why I prefer a multifaceted approach. If we cancel this project, then I need to be prepared with other options that might break us free from the underground._

 _"These blasters are one such option."_

 _"but those are only needed if you see a human. right?"_ Sans asked.

The answer came after hesitation. _"Yes and no,"_ he admitted. _"I mentioned to you before it would assist in acquiring the final SOUL if a human arrives. That is not entirely the point of the blasters, though. I did not mention it because we were in public, and the nature of this development is on a… sensitive topic."_

The war. He meant the war, didn't he? As much as the monsters found great aspirations hearing Asgore talk about his plans to defeat the humans, the sentiment usually only went so far as leaving the underground. There was some confusion regarding whether or not the war with humanity would continue _after_ Asgore acquired the seventh SOUL. Fighting humans on the surface was a taboo topic, carefully avoided, hastily smoothed over, and almost never directly mentioned. Some people would begin talking about the Angel of Death before this.

Gaster signed, _"A human may fall into the underground before we finish our research on time travel, yes. If that human arrives, we will have our seventh and final soul needed to break the barrier. Nevertheless, I believe Asgore will defeat the human, just as he has acquired the other six souls before this one. He does not need the blasters for this._

 _"But what then? Once the barrier is broken, monsters will travel to the surface and encounter more humans. We will need to be prepared to face them and survive._

 _"These blasters are designed as an augmentation of magical strength. Through control of my blasters, magic users can apply even greater power than before to their attacks. ATK damage output multiplies by a factor of eight to ten for standard attacks with average INV frame usage. This changes everything. Monsters won't be so vulnerable against humans the second time the two species comingle. I won't let them be vulnerable. You or anyone else in the underground might need to fight a human someday, and if you do, I want to ensure the monster race survives. In cases where a monster needs self-defense, these blasters will guarantee their victory against a human attacker."_

At this point, Gaster idly conjured one blaster. Now that there were not hundreds of skulls rotating about the room in an overwhelming light show, Sans could study the details of the invention. What hovered in the air appeared to look like an oversized canid skull. A low yellow light throbbed deep in its mouth. It could have been any magic attack, but at the same time, gave the impression of being more… real… more solid… harder to dissolve into magic dust.

 _"well. you're not wrong. no one could beat you with those things,"_ Sans commented. After a pause, he asked, curious, _"so. if you made them so anyone can use them… does that mean the blasters are easy to control?"_

Gaster studied him closely. Whatever the Royal Scientist observed in Sans, he seemed pleased, nodded succinctly once, and then invited, _"How about you try them out?"_

 _"are you serious?"_

The expression on Gaster's face suggested he had meant to ask this since he had called Sans over and begun their conversation. Of course. Wings Dings planned everything.

 _"I need secondary testers at some point. The bulk of the blasters' development is complete. Some new users would help me ensure I have crafted the exact weapon I have intended to. It therefore would be of great profit to me if you spent a little time with the blasters, too."_

 _"alright then,"_ Sans answered, hands shaking a little nervously. He had never been much of an athlete, much less a fighter, and felt more than a little uncomfortable harnessing indubitably powerful magic. But if it would help Gaster… if it would help his friend… if it would help the entire underground… _"just tell me what to do."_

 _"Stay calm,"_ instructed Gaster, _"and don't worry. We'll start with something easy."_


	11. 9: Standstill

**9\. Standstill**

 _[[File 9.1 GA-20#####-#-#]]_

Gaster never drank coffee. Contrarily, he held a strong affinity for tea – tea of any sort, but always tea. He insisted different tea flavors could satisfy the needs of any mood or part of the day: there were morning teas and evening teas and energizing teas and sleep-inducing teas and happy teas and comforting teas and bubbly teas and sophisticated teas and all sorts of teas. Yet the scent that wafted from his cup this morning smelled distinctly non-tea-like. Sans caught a pungent whiff of coffee as the doctor shuffled past.

There were bags beneath his eyesockets. His expression was not the typical unfeeling ice, but a glum and cracking ice. Even his typical straight posture had been compromised by the slightest slump of his shoulders. Oh, he tried to hide it, as he always attempted to hide his personality beneath a proud and passive decorum. But Sans could read past the feigns of dignity – and besides, there was the coffee.

Gaster did not glance as Sans as he shuffled around the laboratory equipment and examined Rain's mechanical work on "the Machine". He would sip at his drink, grimace at the gross taste, then continue mulling over the technology. It appeared to please him as little as the coffee. Sans had to outright tap on Gaster's shoulder – quite a reach, given their height difference – before the Royal Scientist turned around and paid him heed.

 _"hey. you doing okay? you're looking rough."_

 _"I feel a slight fatigue, but the day should progress smoothly enough."_

Sans had to _grab_ Gaster's should this time, as the doctor had again begun to turn around. The coffee sloshed angrily in the thermos.

 _"that's not an answer,"_ Sans insisted. _"look. you're always checking up on us. you can't get away with this. what gives?"_

Gaster set down the coffee on the work table and gruffly responded, _"You are accountable to me in the workplace, and not vice versa."_

 _"quit being stubborn and lay it on me. good leaders are accountable to their followers too. isn't that what you're always saying?"_

They glowered at one another, neither budging, neither speaking.

 _"okay. so. i don't like knowing other people's business,"_ Sans said, finally breaking the staring contest. _"hell, i really don't. but i'm also not in the mood to have a grumpy boss all day. spill it."_

Not many individuals could have forced Gaster open. In normal circumstances, Sans would not have been able to crack the doctor open, either. However, Gaster must have secretly held a desire to communicate about the situation, for after studying Sans' eyesockets a moment, the Royal Scientist said, _"I made the decision to shut down Marlett's project last night, and have been in the process of filing paperwork finalizing the end of the research."_

 _"whoa. that's a… big deal."_ Doctor Marlett had been grinding at this topic for many years, far longer than Sans had even worked at the Royal Labs. _"marlett? her team was trying to take human magic from the barrier, right?"_

 _"Indeed. To clarify, it is not the substance that constitutes the barrier, but the residual human magic that lingers from when the magicians erected the barrier. That substance could be successfully extracted. Initial tests appeared promising,"_ said Gaster. _"We successfully extracted the human's source of power from the barrier region and could store it indefinitely without apparent deterioration to its properties. Because there is no purpose discarding the magic, we shall still maintain several containers of it in the laboratory storage. Regardless, from there, the experiment reached a standstill. This magic cannot be harnessed like direct SOUL power to open or influence the barrier. In its attempted use, it only returns to the barrier and mingles again with the rest of the magic. The only manner by which to prevent its reabsorption into the barrier is by applying the magic directly into oneself."_

 _"you actually injected that stuff into you?"_ Had he heard the doctor correctly? Wings Dings Gaster might have allowed Rain to wear hoodies despite dress code policy, but he always strictly enforced safety measures. Injecting some foreign substance from another species into a monster's body sounded disturbingly…

And yet Gaster answered, _"Yes. In limited quantities. Don't look at me like that."_ Gaster rolled the orbs inside his eyesockets. _"Chemists in the CORE Laboratory carefully assessed the properties of the magic before any injection experiments occurred."_

Sans continued staring. _"magic can't be defined by chemistry. i'm not a chemist, but even i know that. kids in grade school know that."_

 _"We evaluated the properties of the substance as best we could with both magic research specialists and chemists. Sans, please. It is no use pressing me on the matters of a cancelled project, especially one in which you were not involved, and therefore could not understand the carefully laid out logical details of our process."_

 _"ok. you got me there. what were you saying about the project?"_

 _"The magic could be utilized when injected into the body. It could be used against the barrier in the same manner as direct human SOUL power. Even then, readings indicated monster bodies could not successfully contain the magic in large enough quantities to be advantageous. The varying nature of monster and human anatomies restricts what monsters can absorb of the human's source of power. Applied in too large of amounts, and our simulations indicate a monster's physiology would be… compromised. The simulations were not definite, but they indicated that a monster might even be able to dust if they received too much of the substance."_

 _"that's not too good."_

 _"The magic is therefore useless. It cannot be utilized in any means to break the barrier. Our resources, funded by the monarchy as it is, can only extend so far. We much put all monsters, resources, and efforts into productive and promising research. I had hoped this would be a critical development and a means of escaping the underground. Yet I cannot deny the truth."_ Gaster shrugged, looking – for just a second – despaired. _"The project heads nowhere. And thus, it is canceled."_

Gaster had completely forgotten about the coffee. But he appeared as though he needed it, now more than ever. His face had again returned to its typical neutral countenance, yet his hangs hung glumly from stooped shoulders.

Sans rubbed his head, thinking. He never meddled in others' business and he preferred people kept their secrets to themselves. He rarely handled rants and he never understood how to comfort people. Whenever he tried, he felt as though he were fumbling in the dark. Yet he could not let this conversation hang in the air like this. He signed, _"things aren't going well anywhere, are they?"_

 _"I would say not."_ An icy response.

 _"i mean. we're pretty stuck here, too."_ He gestured toward the equipment Gaster had been prior examining. With all the modifications to the machinery, it appeared more like a porcupine of switches, knobs, and tubes than legitimate physics technology. _"rain still can't figure out how to get enough power out of that thing. but… hey."_ He thought of something. _"what about those blasters?_

 _"those are sick._

 _"you're making progress on those."_

The two of them, since Gaster's last public sparring session, had engaged in weekly private lessons. It had been slow progress teaching Sans how to use Gaster's invention. Sans had yet to successfully shoot one of the blasters, though he had at least progressed far enough to conjure one on command. His supervisor, meanwhile, increased the power efficiency and damage output of the blasters yet again, and could have taken out an army of humans with a single sweet of his tools. Sans would not have believed _anyone_ could be a fraction so powerful had he not seen Gaster in the act.

 _"The blasters do consume my most attention currently,"_ the Royal Scientist admitted. He seemed momentarily encouraged by the thought, but then finished glumly, _"they, however, are no means of breaking the barrier. They can assist in killing humans. They cannot bring a seventh SOUL down to us."_

Sans raised a hand to respond, but then realized he had nothing to say. Gaster had a point there. The blaster project alone could not open the underground.

 _"There may be only one way."_ Something strange sparked in Gaster's eyesocket. Something stubborn. Something adamant. Perhaps something not completely safe. _"The project between you, Rain, and I would not be on hold if we proceeded to connect this machine to the CORE and adjusted its power output beyond cautionary calculations."_

He had made his mind on it. Sans could already tell. He still poked back, _"you mean break safety regulations."_ If Gaster were going to make a decision like this, he needed to avoid the euphemisms and take full responsibility and acknowledgement for what he was doing.

 _"We will go beyond the guidelines,"_ Gaster admitted, if still selecting words that softened the questionability of his choice, _"yet we shall still carefully monitor all equipment and research procedures."_

 _"ok."_ At least this reinspired Gaster's motivation. And on the plus side, Sans would no longer be loitered about the office space, half-reading articles while wondering if his team project would be cancelled. He did feel some internal excitement they would now proceed forward to something new. Their next task would be to try to transport someone living – an incredible feat, if it were successful.

 _"_ _Can you inform Rain of the motion?"_ Gaster asked. He glanced toward the door. Apparently, there were other matters to which he needed to attend. _"I can send him official paperwork on the machine's transfer by the end of the day. In the meantime, I would be pleased if the equipment's transport could begin arrangements immediately. If at all possible, see to it that Rain installs the device before the start of the new month."_


	12. 10: Celebration

**10\. Celebration**

 _[[File 10.1 SA-20150708-#-#]]_

"OH SANS," a voice proclaimed behind his back, dripping in so much sorrow a puddle of it formed on the floor, "THAT IS _NOT_ HOW YOU PACK MOVING BOXES!"

Sans glanced to the boxes resting to either side of him. While the living room downstairs boasted an enormous, well-populated urban city center, Sans' bedroom appeared more a modest cardboard village. A modest, _run-down_ cardboard village. The _slums_ of a modest, run-down cardboard village. After all, instead of meticulously packing items, Sans simply threw wads of random junk into each of the packing boxes. An unorganized landfill exploded out from the opened container nearest to him; he had shoved together several wadded, dirty shirts; a broken flashlight; a crumpled stack of accordion sheet music; an old coffee mug; unmatched socks; a two-legged tripod; a rubber duck; a handful of batteries; and something that may or may not have been a spare lampshade. Or maybe it was part of a telescope? The box beside him, ready to be taped and hauled downstairs, possessed a similarly random collection of useless miscellanea. Papyrus leaned over and fished through it now with both of his hands, moaning as he picked up each object.

"WHY ARE YOU PACKING THIS, SANS?" bewailed his far-tidier-and-more-organized brother. "A FLOPPY DISK? AN OLD, SLIMY TENNIS BALL? EMPTY VACCINE SHOTS? AND WHY ON EARTH DO YOU NEED SIX BOXES OF PLASTIC SPORKS! ? ! !"

"heya, sporks are underrated," Sans defended quickly. "they're both spoon and fork. two pieces of silverware for the price of one. you can slurp soup broth and stab your meat chunks without switching silverware. i'll be honest. i don't get why we don't throw all our spoons and forks away. sporks do all the work ya need."

"NO THEY DON'T! YOU FORGOT KNIVES! WE NEED KNIVES TO CUT OUR SPAGHETTI NOODLES INTO SHORTER SPAGHETTI NOODLES!"

"welp, then maybe we can make a new type of plasticware that's spoon, fork, and knife in one?"

"SPLENDID!" Taken with the idea, Papyrus trumpeted, "A FORKNISPOON!"

"howzabout a knispoofork?"

"FORKSPOOKNIFE?"

"spooknifork."

"SPORKNIFE!"

"yeah, that's it. perfect name for our 'ware. now all we need to do is market it to the humans, and we'll be rich." Sans closed his eyes and held out his hands as though he could already feel the gold jangling inside his palms. "best invention since mustard." He paused, thinking about other clever potential innovations, and decided, "we should also create mustchupnaisse. ketchup-mustard-mayonnaise combo to go with our bratburgdogs."

"THAT IS UTTERLY REPULSIVE, SANS." Instantly disenchanted, Papyrus dropped the sporks back into the cardboard box and backed away from the clutter. Still, he remained lingering at the edge of the doorway.

"fine. maybe i'll start my own company for that," Sans teased. He glanced over at his brother, gestured toward him, and inquired, "so. you didn't come into my room to complain about my packing style, didja? or brainstorm the best 'wares people have ever seen?"

"DID I HAVE SOMETHING TO TELL YOU?" Papyrus puzzled. His forehead, though bone, somehow creased. "OH! I DID HAVE SOMETHING TO TELL YOU! ! TOMORROW NIGHT IS THE EVE BEFORE ASGORE OFFICIALLY BREAKS THE BARRIER! SO ME AND UNDYNE WERE THINKING WE COULD HAVE A PARTY TO CELEBRATE, AND YOU SHOULD COME! !"

"a party, huh? gee, i usually do like a party…"

Sans' voice trailed off, pinched in discomfort as he wondered how his changed reputation would alter his old party fun. Would he be able to enjoy himself with the crowd when everyone hailed his name and called him hero? Potentially not.

"ALL THE ROYAL GUARDS ARE INVITED! AND THEY ARE BRINGING ALL OF THEIR FRIENDS! ! I AM INVITED, OF COURSE, SINCE I AM BASICALLY A ROYAL GUARD, AND I CAME UP WITH THE PARTY IDEA WITH UNDYNE! OH, ALSO, ALL THE SENTRIES ARE INVITED, WHICH MEANS YOU! !"

The thought of intermingling with so many other monsters enticed Papyrus. His smile today seemed wider than usual, so wide it crowded the door frame. Sans recalled, with a bit of guilt, he had not been hanging out with his brother as much as custom lately, so that the already-lonely skeleton would have felt rather deprived of companionship. Situations were still a _little_ odd since that one day in the kitchen.

 _woops._

"i'll, uh, think about it," he answered with some guilt. He should probably attend the party, even if he might not enjoy it. A shame – he really wished he could enjoy himself in other company, instead of rush away from excited monsters hailing his name. In truth, the only reason he had chosen to work and pack today had been to avoid his new admirers. "when and where's it at?"

"TOMORROW AT SEVEN! IT'S AT GRILLBY'S, WHICH WAS NOT MY FIRST CHOICE! IT WAS NOT MY SECOND CHOICE! IT ALSO WASN'T MY LAST CHOICE, BECAUSE I WOULD NOT HAVE MADE THAT CHOICE EVER! BUT UNDYNE SAID THAT SHE THOUGHT IT WOULD WORK BETTER THAN SOME PLACE IN WATERFALL."

"grillby's, seven. got it." Shrugging aside his discomfort, Sans recalled all the enjoyable moments he had spent in the restaurant. This would be his last opportunity to enjoy it before leaving it behind. "yeah," he nodded to both himself and to Papyrus, settling on a final decision. "i'll be there."

* * *

 _[[File 10.2 GA-20050826-#-#]]_

 _"Doctor, you… might want to look in the mirror."_

Rain signed his comment with a cringe. That cringe sorely differed from how most other scientists had been behaving around Gaster today – with quivering, poorly-held-back grins.

 _"What is it?"_ Clear exasperation dripped through the response.

Rain's hands fumbled. Finally, he returned, a little nervously, _"Just look in the mirror."_

Gaster did not spend time stepping to the mirror in the restroom, but did swivel in his office chair to peer at the nearest window's reflection. He immediately recognized why the other scientists – even Alphys! – were laughing at him. His usual stoic demeanor had been ruined… as someone had drawn a sharpie mustache on his lip.

 _"Lately you've been working so hard and so late in the lab, you know? So you fell asleep in the office, and…"_

 _"I can guess what happened."_

 _"I told him not to."_

 _"There is only one correct course of action to do now."_

 _"Which is…?"_ Rain fretted.

 _"Do you still have that two dozen colored sharpie set in your office?"_

 _"Yes."_ Rain always stored art supplies near at hand for his periodic doodles.

 _"Grab a handful and meet me in Sans' office. The brighter the colors, the better."_ To most individuals, Gaster's facial expression would have been neutral. To those who knew him well, something… mischievous… twinkled behind his lenses. _"Pin Sans down with all your strength. I'm going to turn him into a cat."_

* * *

 _[[File 10.3 GA-20060801-#-#]]_

"So, let's suppose, just for a moment, that this _works_ and I go back in time."

Rain paused his work, staring at the mostly-installed device. Though dwarfed beside the high-reaching complex CORE interior wall, Rain's improved machine wielded its own impressive mass of wires, panels, and buttons interconnected by sophisticated engineering. The main equipment still looked like a wire-infested box, perhaps even an advanced copier machine overgrown in hardware mold. However, the cables connecting it sprawled like a maze across the high-ceilinged room, stretching horizontally at a distance nearly equivalent to the far-away ceiling.

The inside of the CORE baffled the eye on its own. Tubes ran like amok like a labyrinth, walls looking more like a pipe organ gone wrong than a building. Lighting always disconcerted, too: lava light cast flickering red hues throughout the interior. Shadows danced with as much life as flame. The combination of the CORE's eerie basement floor plus the Machine dizzied the senses, and yet Sans still watched his companion hard at work on the machinery, pretending the visuals did not bother him.

Sans lingered further away from the device than Rain did, instead chilling with the miniature mountain of construction tools at the back of the room. He looked up upon hearing Rain speak. "yeah?" Sans prompted as he swung a wrench idly around with his left hand.

"The goal is for us to travel so far back that we come to a point in the timeline when the humans hadn't built the barrier."

"yup."

"So I go back in time, to way before I was born… doesn't that seem… _unnatural_ to you, Sans?" Rain did not wait for a response, but continued babbling. "I'm still not sure that can work, given what we know about time travel and parallel worlds – seems inconsistent with the theory, is what I mean. But, regardless, whatever, that's what we're trying to accomplish. And if I succeed, I'll be wandering around a world where nobody I know has even been born yet, in an environment I don't understand, trying to make things better in a timeline I don't know how it went in the first place?"

Sans pointed out, "well, we know what happened in our universe's past. humans got scared of monsters. started a war. drove monsters back. shut us underground with the barrier."

"It's still not enough information to _go_ off to do things right," Rain protested worriedly. "What if we screw up _again_?"

"then we can go back in time again and retry. we can make yet another parallel world. now that we know how to do it once, we can do it again, as often as we need to."

"And what if I die first?"

"…"

Sans, sighing and setting the wrench down, remarked, "buddy, you worry too much sometimes." Hopefully Rain would not remark that Sans' response avoided his question.

Instead, his colleague simply sighed, a noise similar to the one Sans had emitted a moment before. "I know, I know, I know. I'm just… well… nervous for tomorrow." Rain's shoulders slumped so much his lab coat almost slid off. Hastily, he rightened his shoulders and arms, though his body language remained anxious.

"i am too. gaster believes it'll work, though. and how often has he been wrong?"

"True." For the first time, Rain quit staring at the machine, and instead rotated his torso to look at Sans. He attempted to reassure himself with some optimistic data. "All our preliminary tests have passed. I'll finish tweaking the machine by the end of tonight. Everything's in place for tomorrow. We couldn't be more ready."

"tomorrow's test also only sends you back in time five seconds. not five years, not five hundred years."

"I just am imagining the point of the experiment where we _do_ go back five hundred years." Rain's voice drifted. "Gaster's plan complete. Everything we've been working for, researching in secret, accomplished. Asgore makes the news public that we have a way of escaping the underground, we send everyone back to a time centuries before their birth… and we all get there together… I'm trying to imagine what that'll be _like_."

"really odd," said Sans. Despite the fact he commented with a mere two words, his mind also whirled with the imagination of infinite possibilities.

"You're telling me! I don't know if we'll be completely freaked out, or completely overjoyed, when it's finally happened."

"both?" Sans suggested, at about the same time Rain himself mumbled, "Probably both."

They exchanged a glance, amused at the verbal overlap.

"I'll want a party before I leave," Rain continued, somewhat tangentially.

"before? why not after, when we _get_ there?"

"Because…" Rain gestured around to the entire room. He swiveled about, pointing at the pipes and darkened monitors and panels overdressed in flashing buttons. "I know we're working so freakin' hard to get out of this place, but I'll sort of… miss… _this_."

"i guess i won't, too much."

"You won't? The thrill of the research, the dogged clamber for knowledge, the exploration, physics hypotheses proved, a whole new world opening up to us? We've been together _so many hours_ working on this, Sans. You, me, Gaster. We're a team. We're all friends, even. I know I get a little caught up and worried a lot –"

"all the time," Sans coughed, none too discretely.

Rain ignored him "– and yeah, I am worried. I am stressed. But this is also the purpose of my life. My biggest adventure? It'll be strange to have it done, and even if it's been hard work, I'll miss it. You really won't?"

"well…" Sans shuffled his feet. The black shoes, as always, felt uncomfortable to him. Why couldn't he work in slippers? "i love physics. don't get me wrong. and i love research. always have, always will. wouldn't get a phd in something if i didn't enjoy it. then there's you and gaster's company. wouldn't exchange it for anything.

"but… i'd like to do some new things with my life, too. i know we're going back in time to a world with simpler technologies, but i still wanna do what i can to study astronomy. look at the stars. and… welp… this constant research to try to get around the barrier… it's eaten into the time i could've been spending with my lil' brother. i get, uh, no time with him. ever. i'm lucky if i see him get ready in the morning before i run to work. sure, i know we're not close. just. i feel like we could be, maybe… if i had some time to put effort in to talk to him? all i have the time to do now… is make sure the kid has food in the fridge. i want more than that. he's my brother. and he's so cool. that's why i don't think i'll miss this crazed science race _too_ much. in the future i can do cool new things. i like what i have now, but the future sounds better to me. stars, my bro, a life on the surface. can't get better than that."

The CORE grumbled in the background, but the two scientists stood, unmoving, unspeaking.

"I can understand that," Rain nodded. "Still. We'll be leaving life as we know it behind us, and that's a little scary."

"it is," Sans agreed.

"So I want to have one final party before we leave it all behind. Celebrate what we've done, celebrate everything we've known, before going out on a new journey. I know everyone's SO ready to rush out of the underground, but I think that would be something meaningful, don't you?"

"i'd go to your party," said Sans.

"It'd probably have to be Gaster's. _He's_ the Royal Scientist. He could invite everyone from the science team for one final event. All the researchers together, Calibri, Margaret, that one… umm, intern you're becoming good friends with?"

"alphys." Sans supplied the name.

"Yeah, her. Everyone. Mostly, I'll want to spend the night with you and Gaster." Rain smiled. "Ah, ah, sorry if that sounds mushy! I mean – I've just spent all my lab time with you two. And since we're going to be the three victors of this crazy research, we should celebrate what we've accomplished together!

"Sometimes…" And Rain really had dived into his imagination now. "…it's _so hard_ for me to believe that anything we do will work. What are the chances this can happen? It sounds far-fetched, like a poorly written science fanfiction. Science fiction fanfiction? Uhh…"

Before Rain tripped too much over how he could eloquently phrase that thought, Sans prompted, "anyway…"

"Anyway," Rain continued, "sometimes it seems _impossible_ anything we can do will work. But other days, it's so easy to imagine! It feels real! Right now I can see the three of us together, Sans. You, Gaster, and me. At the party. We're raising our glasses together as a team and clinking them, celebrating our breakthrough and success. Celebrating… the… end of the long road together.

"Think… think it can happen, Sans? That it's not just some crazy fantasy in my head? That we can get there, the three of us, to the end of our quest?"

"we'll get there," Sans dreamed, even though he also harbored uncertainty in his soul. With a nod toward his colleague and friend, he resolved, "we'll have that party and celebrate the end of the road together."

* * *

 _[[File 8.4 SA-20150709-#-#]]_

Sans avoided the River Person as he wandered into Grillby's behind Papyrus and Undyne. Thankfully, the greater height of his two companions blocked the River Person from view, and Sans could slip into Grillby's unperturbed.

Somewhat unperturbed, anyway. Papyrus' sequins-bathed "Party Boy" shirt and Undyne's slick black outfit could not detract restaurant regulars and Royal Guard partygoers from recognizing their short skeleton hero. Though the River Person remained outdoors, staring vapidly at snowflakes falling in the fading light, everyone inside Grillby's erupted into a single word excited shout. "SANS!"

 _welp, there it is._

Typically when he entered Grillby's, he received a hearty welcome. Sans had in fact cultivated a culture of bawdy exclamations and loud, cheerful times within the restaurant; his near-constant presence there interacting with the other regulars ensured that everyone cheerfully greeted him when he stepped through the doors. He greeted them just as happily in turn. However, instead of receiving the usual excited but everyday exchanges between drinking companions, tonight Sans was catapulted with a resounding hero's welcome. The single word, "SANS!" contained such a different timbre than typical he almost did not recognize his own name.

Sans deflated at the same instant his brother straightened tall and proud. Papyrus, glittering in a horrendous, disco ball-like spectacle, reacted as though he himself had received the welcome. "IT IS I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS!" He stormed straight into the center of off-duty Royal Guards, all of them impressively tall, and vanished in their midst. Undyne charged off after Papyrus with an amused hoot and shouted above the already-noisy crowd – something about how Papyrus needed to try the "amazingly bad" cheese fries.

Yet even while Papyrus and Undyne glibly threw themselves into the mob, a mass of monsters churned toward Sans. In an instant, he was overtaken with animated welcomes and galvanized thanks. Most of the people Sans knew, though many had only exchanged a few casual words with him in the past. Others, the Grillby's regulars who happened to hang out in the restaurant at the time of the Royal Guards' party, clambered toward him, too, with an excited, "Hey Sans! You haven't been in here the last week! Glad to see you before we all head up to the surface!" "Thanks to you!" "A toast to Sans!"

He scrambled into the nearest booth. It would save him from being knocked over by the throng. His long-time drinking companion, who already had stockpiled tonight's collection of liquor bottles on the tabletop, greeted him with an ecstatic, "Sansy! ! !"

Before she could begin adulating on his recent heroics, Sans butted in. He shouted loudly above the hectic din, "heya! one last drinkin' contest before we all leave this underground for good?"

"I'm in!" the rabbit, of course, responded. Several others denied participation but clambered around the booth for the anticipated event. Most of the spectators were the regulars, Sans' old crowd, rather than the Royal Guards. Good. He preferred it that way.

"Grillbz, can we get two ketchup bottles over here!" his friend cried out.

"naw, naw, let's make it big," Sans said, still attempting to play it casual, though all eyes were upon him. If he continued the party this route, focusing on age-old restaurant regulars' traditions, maybe the night could feel like old times moreso than hero worship. "hot sauce. your hottest stuff, grillby."

A round of "oohs" filled the room, coming from those accustomed to the drinking contests. Sans caught his brother's face in the crowd, though. Papyrus was rolling his eyesocket in disgust. Undyne seemed entertained and filled her face with a fiendish grin.

Grillby did not speak, yet slipped wordlessly toward the back room to grab his hottest hot sauce. He returned a moment later with two bottles dramatically set on his finest platter. The swarm solemnly parted for the restaurant owner. A moment later, two tall, full plastic bottles rested on the table, one before Sans, and one before his companion. Both of them tried to ignore the intimidating ingredients on the label.

"I'm going to win this one, Sansyyy," she taunted, ears twitching with cocky resolve. Her cute button bunny nose scrunched into a competitive sneer.

"oh yeah? like you always do?" Sans boasted the highest number of wins by a long shot. Though she ran second in the competitions, she placed far below Sans' soaring score. Once the regulars had maintained a scorekeeping board on one of the walls in Grillby's restaurant, but after they ran out of room for Sans' tally, they opted to take down the board and pretend not keep score.

"Oh, brag your numbers all you like, Sansy. This is the one night that counts."

"winner takes all the glory?"

"You bet."

"what's the prize?"

She cocked her head to one side, and as often occurred when hard in thought, her left ear flattened while the right one remained upright.

"Dip in the river!" someone in the crowd shouted.

"Dunked with ketchup!" another hooted.

"Snort wasabi!"

"Loser must do an embarrassing dare!"

"Draw on the other's face!" This would perhaps work better if Sans lost than his friend.

"Piggyback the winner around for the rest of the night!"

"Dress the other person up for a week!"

"hey hey." Sans raised up both of his hands to either side, slightly higher than horizontal to the floor. Immediately, everyone around the table quieted. A buzz of conversation rose from the other side of the store, where the Royal Guards appeared to be participating in contests of their own, but every regular from Grillby's held an excited, anticipated breath. "i got it."

In a low, serious, dramatic intonation, Sans proclaimed, "no hot dogs for a year."

Everyone gaped. One white dog threw her paws in front of her face to stifle her startled gasp. Sans, from the corner of his eyesocket, could see Papyrus frowning, clearly suspicious about whether or not his brother could follow the rules of his own proposed punishment.

"That's… a hard punishment." The rabbit put her paws on the edge of the table and pushed herself back into the booth's cushions. Her fingers kneaded the table's edge for a moment as she pondered such a horrific bet, and then finally slammed a fist down on the table. Her entire forearm, elbow to knuckles, whacked the surface. She reached out her fingers to shake Sans' hand. "But I'm not gonna lose. It's a deal, bonehead."

Sans' jaw tightened into a devious smirk. "then it's official."

They reached out and shook hands. Furry paw grasped smooth phalanges.

"It's on," she snarled.

Grillby stepped aside while Greater Dog trundled to the edge of the table. Initially, the restaurant owner had presided over the competition, but because he was soft-spoken, that had created complications in the competitions. Greater Dog, with its big "boofing" voice, could clearly, effectively bark the start and stop of the competition.

Two left hands reached toward the hot sauce bottles. The rabbit placed the bottle tip right at the edge of her lip. Sans' teeth nearly tapped the top of his own bottle. The two stared at one another in a dead stare, prepared for their life-altering duel.

"Bwuff," Greater Dog began, counting down to the start of the competition.

Sans' fists tightened.

"Bwuff."

Arm bones tensed.

"BOOF!"

They tipped their bottles skyward, rapidly chugging the hot sauce with an intense fervor that _almost_ made the stinging spiciness palatable. Sans instantly choked on the taste, mouth burning. It took him a moment to recover. His companion moaned as hot sauce assaulted her tongue, yet she doggedly chugged, eyes watering through the pain. Sans suffered so much from the spice he almost could not hear half the room shouting, "CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!" in competitive camaraderie.

He forced himself to squeeze the bottle. To continue guzzling the painful sauce. He could feel it slowly, slowly, slowly emptying… as hard as he tried… still such a prolonged process…

He could do it, could do it, almost there…

"BOOF! ! !" the Greater Dog announced.

His companion threw a triumphant paw down on the table, plastic hot sauce bottle emptied. " _HA!_ "

Everyone instantly rose into a shout. Several dogs jumped up and chest-bumped, others turned their snouts to the ceiling and howled, many other monsters screaming in shocked awe at the upset. "Ohhhhhhhhh!" a number of voices hooted in devious enthusiasm. Sans' drinking partner threw herself up onto the table and dived into the crowd to bodysurf. Someone hoisted her up into a piggyback ride, where she waved her emptied trophy so high up she almost crashed it against the light fixtures.

"OH MY GOD! ! !" Papyrus exclaimed, eyes bugging.

Undyne, in a hysterical hoot, shouted out in stereo, "OH MY GOD! Fuhuhuhu, your brother just lost! !"

Sans set down his nearly-empty bottle. He certainly had lost, though not by an exorbitant amount. In a few more gulps, maybe two more seconds' time, he would have finished. Playing it cool, and taking the loss in stride, he chuckled and said, "fair's fair. good job." Then he immediately stretched for a water glass – not his own – to save his sore palate.

Papyrus also appeared sore, though in a different respect.

"GREAT!" he began to rant. "NOW MY BROTHER IS GOING TO EXPLODE!

"I'VE TRIED TO GET HIM ON A DIET FOR YEARS! IT WOULD BE GOOD FOR HIM!

"BUT THE LAST TIME HE TRIED TO QUIT EATING THINGS LIKE HOT DOGS AND BURGERS, HE ENDED UP EATING ALL MY CAKE SPRINKLES IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT AND COVERING HIS SALADS IN LEFTOVER GRILL GREASE!"

"and mayonnaise."

"AND A HOST OF OTHER NIGHTMARES! !

"THIS ISN'T GOING TO WORK! SOMETHING BAD IS GOING TO HAPPEN, I JUST KNOW IT!"

"heya, grillby?" Sans raised up a hand and flagged down the restaurant owner. "you got any cold 'dogs on you?"

About a dozen individuals gawked at him.

In casual explanation, he said, "i only said no _hot_ dogs."

Undyne glared. "You want to order cold _hotdogs_! That's cheating!"

"It's just an oxymoron." Sans winked.

"NOBODY IS A MORON!" Papyrus darted in, quick to defend.

Undyne, continuing to storm, ranted on, "You're still cheating! ALREADY! Do you cut corners in work AND everywhere else? !" She had apparently become engrossed in the competition. Though she had never entered Grillby's during one of the prior contests, this fervor came as no surprise. From what Sans knew of the captain, she had always been rather competitive. Of course she had become quickly passionate over the event.

To placate her, he changed orders. "fine, how 'bout some coldcats? opposite of both hot and dog, y'see?"

Grillby, deciding not to enter this dispute, simply turned around and strolled back to his counter. He would not be retrieving cold hotdogs, coldcats, or anything involving temperatures and animals. It wouldn't matter if it was a _lukewarm fish_ or _absolute zero ostrich_. Opting to ignore Sans, he began arranging the liquor bottles behind his counter.

The crowd, still babbling over the dramatics of the competition, slowly dispersed.

"heh, it was worth a shot."

Undyne now stood alongside Papyrus near Sans' table. Papyrus had enthusiastically entered into a one-sided conversation with another Royal Guard, and while he yakked away, Undyne seized the opportunity to say, "Hey, Sans?"

"yeah?"

"I want to apologize for my harshness earlier. You know… in your house… when we were investigating…"

"hey, it's okay."

"I was just frustrated I didn't know everything. But now," and her face turned into a gleeful grin, "I'm quite excited about what you did! You beat that human's ass, and now we're getting out of here! !" She whacked him heartily in the back in what she intended to be a celebratory gesture, yet it nearly knocked Sans into the table. "OUR HOPES AND DREAMS ARE GONNA COME TRUE!"

This last exclamation caught the ear of most of the monsters in the restaurant. They turned to their captain. "Let's have a toast!" Undyne exclaimed.

"I DON'T HAVE ANY BREA-" Papyrus began, but was cut off.

Glasses clattered about as party attendees distributed them about the room. Bottles turned downward, liquor splashing into glasses.

A moment later, Undyne raised her filled glass above her head, and shouted out, "A TOAST TO HOPES AND DREAMS!"

"Hopes and dreams!" every guard, sentry, and regular chimed, and downed their drink with a hearty upturned glass.

Only Sans heard the River Person, standing at the corner of the restaurant in the entryway, mumble something else. "Tra la la. The snow is very wet today. That is a bad sign…"


	13. 11 Backtrack

**11\. Backtrack**

 _[[File 11.1 IH-20150701-3-5]]_

He could only allow himself a few seconds to grieve her.

Thin white bones reached up. His hand hovered a moment in the air before he placed his palm gently on the door. He could feel the indents and imperfections of the material beneath his hamate and capitate. Somewhere, on the other side of this door, lay the dusty remains of his joking partner. He doubted anyone else would be around that side of the Ruins to perform an official funeral ceremony and sprinkle her dust on what she loved most, but at least the woman had fallen in the comforts of home, hopefully near something she had held dear. It was not much to hope for, but Sans could do nothing for her now.

 _i'm sorry, old lady._

He rotated away from the door.

Half a second later, he teleported.

He could not leave the human alone.

Hopefully they had not stumbled upon Papyrus.

Sans collapsed in the snow a quarter mile from where he had been half a second ago. Though somewhat disoriented, he immediately pulled himself onto his feet and began rushing up the pathway – a pathway conspicuously absent of life.

 _shit, where's the human?_

They weren't where he had left them.

Now regretting his choice of slippers for footwear, he stumbled past rows of trees. He stumbled through a clearing covered in nothing but snow and the tracks of someone who had wandered this way before him. He stumbled past the frozen ice pond. He stumbled over the well-packed snow of Snowdin Forest's main trail. All this time, he noticed no sign of the human… not a glimpse of their sweater… not the sight of one dark brown hair from their head. He hoped the recent tracks he sighted on the pathway belonged to the child.

He _needed_ to find them.

He could only keep running and trust he raced the right direction. Trees flashed by. A surprised Snowdrake standing on the road jumped out of the way before being bowled over. Sans could not even find the breath to shout out a frenzied "sorry" – gasping for air, he just continued charging. The incline of a hill wore him down, but he continued huffing, puffing, and forcing his feet to propel him forward. The urgency of the situation provided him extra stamina.

He raced up the hill… to find the child standing just a few feet from Papyrus, musing over a puzzle. So innocent the child appeared now, leaning up to stare at a white orb in Papyrus' hand, while the tall skeleton hunched over to peer more carefully at the sphere himself. Together, the two muttered about electricity, mazes, and a lack of instructions, apparently attempting to discern how this puzzle worked. Both seemed confused. Papyrus furiously scratched the top of his skull while the child reached up to take the orb from his gloves and weigh it in each hand. Nothing about the scene indicated the true, horrendous nature of the child – that they had just moments past _slaughtered_ one of Sans' friends and mentioned it in casual conversation.

He could _not_ allow something similar to happen to his brother. No, way, no, chance, not, now, not, ever.

Sans stomped forward, straight toward Papyrus and the human.

"you stay the fuck right there!" he demanded, pointing accusingly at the human. The child's dark cheeks paled to the color of snow, and they froze. Wide eyes dared not blink. Sans, tramping straight past the stalled human, clapped his brother on the back and ushered him resolutely away from the child toward a copse of trees. "papyrus, get over here, c'mon." Even as he pushed his brother, he craned his neck backward to fixate a direct eyesocket on the human. Although Sans' harsh voice had traumatized the child, and they had not yet moved a muscle, he could not let them out of sight one second. Not when they had killed before.

"we needa talk."

Unsurprisingly, Sans' firm actions startled Papyrus. The skeleton protested, waving his gloves in the air. "SANS! ! ! WHAT ARE YOU DOING! ? !" He removed Sans' hand from his back. Overexcited, he announced, "EVERYTHING IS UNDER CONTROL! WE WERE JUST ABOUT TO ENGAGE IN THE MOST ENTHRALLING OF PUZZLES, THE –"

"no. quit it. quit the puzzles. quit it all." Sans' speech lacked its characteristic casualness. Instead, he shot out each word crisply, firmly, sharply, quickly. "get backup. get undyne on the phone. we've gotta get this kid taken care of immediately."

"BUT WE ARE TAKING CARE OF THE HUMAN!" Papyrus countered. He sounded completely baffled. Perhaps a little hurt, too – both brothers knew how long Papyrus had awaited an encounter with a human. Sans could not pull this moment of success away from him now. "I AM TAKING CARE OF THE HUMAN RIGHT NOW! THE REASON WE HAVE THE PUZZLES IS TO BAFFLE AND BEFUDDLE THE HUMAN INTO SUBMISSION SO WE CAN CAPTURE THEM. ONCE THEIR MIND IS WEARIED FROM THE TRYING WORK OF PUZZLE-SOLVING, THEN –"

"alright, look." Sans rubbed his hand briefly to his forehead before snapping it forward toward his brother. "the puzzles don't work. that won't capture a human. just… they're dangerous. we gotta treat them more carefully than…"

"I KNOW HUMANS ARE DANGEROUS, SANS," Papyrus huffed, crossing his long-limbed arms over his ribcage. "BUT THEY ARE NOTHING THAT I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, FUTURE FAMOUS ROYAL GUARDSMAN, CANNOT HANDLE!"

Sans glanced at the human. They still had not taken one step toward the skeletons, but… they had dropped the orb, and now grasped a stick firmly in one of their trembling hands. A weapon, no doubt.

That instilled no confidence in Sans' SOUL.

"trust me, bro, i believe you. i believe you can handle the human." Words tumbled over one another more quickly now. One letter smashed into the next as they rushed out Sans' mouth. "but think about how excited undyne would be to capture the human with you? you've always want her to be proud of you. here's your chance. nothing would thrill her more than getting the opportunity to watch you beat up the human with her own two eyes." Anything he could say to convince Papyrus to avoid confronting the dangerous creature for a few minutes. Anything he could say to bring proper, well-trained backup to handle a confirmed monster murderer.

"WELL…" Papyrus' eyesockets shifted to the side, a tell-tale sign he was considering Sans' idea. "YOU ARE RIGHT, I DO WANT UNDYNE TO SEE MY GREATEST MOMENT. I WANT TO BATHE IN GLORY AND HAVE SPECTATING MONSTERS SHOWER ME IN ROSE PETALS! BUT…"

Papyrus paused.

He reached his decision.

"IF YOU ARE SO WORRIED ABOUT THEIR DANGEROUSNESS, THEN THEY MUST BE THE DANGEROUSEST!

"WE CANNOT WAIT FOR UNDYNE!

"IT IS OUR DUTY AS SENTRIES TO ACT! !

"THIS HUMAN MUST BE HANDLED INSTANTLY! ! ! !

"NO DILLYDALLYING!

"NO DELAYING!

"AND NO 'BONE'DOGGLING! !"

The skeleton's face grew into a wide, overexcited, toothy grin. "JUST IMAGINE WHEN I MEET WITH UNDYNE AND ANNOUNCE I'VE JUST SUCCESSFULLY CAPTURED A HUMAN, WITHOUT ANY OF HER ASSISTANCE!

"THAT WILL MAKE HER EVEN MORE PROUD OF ME! ! !

"THAT WILL BE EVEN BETTER THAN HAVING HER WATCH ME FIGHT! !"

Papyrus stretched up to his full impressive height, spine proudly straightened, fists valiantly planted on his hips. A gentle breeze rose up, pulling at his scarf and flapping it like a superhero's cape.

Spinning on the heel of his boot, Papyrus made one gallant step toward the human, who cowered, shaking, too frightened to move, almost ready to cry.

For all Sans had attempted to convince Papyrus to leave the human alone, instead he had incited his brother to capture them _now_.

He threw himself forward to block his brother's path. It meant turning his back to the human, but better that than allowing his brother to stride straight up. Hands raised and spread widely like two twin spider webs, Sans insisted, with greater urgency, "no! you can't do that, papyrus, you can't!"

Papyrus halted mid-step. "SANS? SERIOUSLY, WHAT'S GOING ON!? YOU'RE ACTING EVEN WEIRDER THAN USUAL! IF THIS IS ANOTHER ONE OF YOUR JOKES, I AM NOT QUITE ENTIRELY WHOLLY COMPLETELY ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN THIS IS THE BEST TIME FOR IT! IN FACT, I AM ENTIRELY WHOLLY COMPLETELY ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN THAT THIS IS NOT THE BEST TIME FOR IT."

"i'm being serious this time, too. this is not a prank. i honestly don't think it's a good idea to get near that human." Sans glanced back at the child, who remained still and white-faced.

"I AM NOT A DISTANCE CAPTURER, SANS! I AM A CLOSE, HAND-BONES-TO-HAND-BONES SORT OF CAPTURER! IF I AM TO CAPTURE THE HUMAN, I MUST BE NEAR THEM!"

Spinning wildly like a pinwheel, Papyrus whirled toward the human with a zany eagerness to confront them. This time, he successfully passed his brother before Sans could block him.

"shit!

"no!

"papyrus, they've killed people!"

Papyrus' shadow halted over the child. Though the human had stood, transfixed and traumatized, during the brothers' entire conversation, this last moment impacted them too much. The human finally burst into the wail they had barely been repressing, small sweatered form crumpling in a ball, shaking and shrieking. _"No no no no no no no no no don't hurt me don't hurt me I didn't mean to do anything!"_

Apart from the child withering in the snow, no one moved. No more did Papyrus trot toward the child, no more did Sans rush to block his brother. Together, the skeletons stared at the bawling kid before them, listening to their screeches, Sans' last words sinking into the situation.

 _they've killed people._

"THAT'S… AWFUL…" Papyrus said at last, staring with new, worried eyesockets at the human.

There were no more words from the brothers, but the human incessantly babbled.

"No no I didn't mean to – no no no – no, I'm no meanie I'm not a meanie at all I'm not a bad guy I didn't know what would happen I didn't know at all I wasn't even trying to hurt her I _proooomise_ – I promise I wasn't trying to hurt her I didn't _knowwwww_ don't hurt me don't _hurt_ me."

Papyrus, observing the general gist of the wailing, remarked, "IT LOOKS LIKE THE HUMAN DIDN'T KNOW WHAT THEY WERE DOING, SANS." No longer did exuberance sing through his sentences. Concern soaked through his voice, his dreams of glory and entering the Royal Guard vanished from his thoughts. Sans knew Papyrus would never have anticipated _this_ sort of situation the day he encountered a human. Likely, Papyrus had imagined the day to be one of thrilling adventure...

…not… _this_.

"i…" Sans' voice trailed off after a single word. His eyesockets roved down to stare at the human, whose eyes had reddened and swollen to the size of golf balls. They had dropped the stick to rub tears from cheeks.

Papyrus asked, quite uncertainly, "DO… I… STILL CAPTURE THEM! ?"

The child's ramblings rushed onward. "I feel so awful and bad and I didn't mean to and I'm so bad I mean I mean I feel so bad and…" At this point in time, a horrible fit of sobbing overwhelmed the child, so much that they almost appeared to seize, limbs thrashing, body jolting, mind overcome in terror. Words were lost in the screams.

A pink slipper took one step backwards.

Papyrus stepped the opposite direction. Though his motion appeared as hesitant as Sans', he clenched his fists determinedly to his sides, and murmured, as softly as this loud skeleton had ever spoken, "PERHAPS IT IS NOT THE PROPER TIME TO CAPTURE YOU, HUMAN."

Then, with a bit of a troubled smile, he completed, "IT LOOKS LIKE RIGHT NOW YOU NEED A HUG OF COMFORT."

Sans and the human flinched simultaneously. But the taller skeleton jerked himself forward. With equal amounts of nervous hesitation and bold conviction, he bent down and knelt on the snow with both knees, leaned forward toward the child, pulled them up to his chest, and embraced them tightly. The human's head smooshed against his chest. There, they shook in the security of his arms.

But… maybe… the violence of their shaking… was beginning to subside.

Sans' feet tread backward a few more steps. However, while he distanced himself from the human, his eyes latched onto them and Papyrus.

"THERE, THERE," said Papyrus, at the same time thumping the human's back in a well-intended gesture. "THERE IS NO REASON TO CRY. I WILL ONLY TRY TO CAPTURE YOU WHEN YOU ARE HAVING A GOOD DAY!"

None but Papyrus could switch from threatening capture to embracing that same individual he had threatened. Yet Sans held no doubts Papyrus' actions arose from complete, internal sincerity. "YOU ARE BEING HELD BY THE GREAT PAPYRUS! YOU ARE VERY LUCKY! NOTHING COULD BE BETTER THAN THAT! !"

For half a second, the human might have giggled on top of their sobbing.

Sans continued staring, though he could not consciously register what he saw. Dazed. He felt dazed. And… something… else…

He felt…

… _guilty?_

Papyrus was still comforting the child. "THERE IS NOTHING MORE SOFT AND CUDDLY THAN A SKELETON! AND THERE AREN'T ANY SKELETONS THAT ARE MORE SOFT AND CUDDLY THAN ME! THIS IS THE BEST CUDDLE SESSIONS OF ALL POSSIBLE CUDDLE SESSIONS YOU WILL EVER EXPERIENCE."

With a lot of sadness, but perhaps also a little relief, the human squeaked out some words in a high-pitched voice. With their face still smashed into Papyrus' chest, the humans' comment sounded indistinct, yet Sans still believed he heard, "You're silly," between the muffled sobs.

The lady on the other side of the Ruins door was dead.

And yet…

Yes… that feeling… definitely guilt.

Sans missed Papyrus' reply, yet he heard the human speak again. They had finally pulled themselves up to look Papyrus in the eyesocket, though they were still nested on the skeleton's lap. They choked more words through the tears. "You… don't… you don't hate me?"

"VERY MUCH I DO NOT!"

The child reached out and clutched onto Papyrus' glove.

"I FOUND OUR EXPERIENCES SOLVING PUZZLES TOGETHER QUITE BONDING, EVEN IF THEY WERE BRIEF! MAYBE ANOTHER TIME, WHEN YOU ARE FEELING BETTER, WE CAN RESUME OUR ESCAPADES, AND I CAN TRICK YOU WITH CAPERS AND JAPES!"

For sure this time, a little giggle danced on top of the tears.

Sans' feet continued propelling himself backwards. He could not stop. A thought. _the human killed the old lady by accident…_ Thoughts in motion with his feet. _…it was by accident, no other reason for the child to burst into tears like that…_ Stumbling, stumbling. Nearly trip. _and… yet…_

 _…what have_ i _done?_

The first human he had encountered… obliterated by a blast of magic, before even finding the chance to speak. Without closing his eyes, Sans could _see_ that past. The bones scattered on the floor. The magic strewn throughout the room. The throbbing, broken human SOUL before him.

That human had been little older than the one before him now – the one sobbing in the snow, clearly traumatized by what had occurred.

Guilt sunk like a stone inside Sans' ribcage.

Between the human and the monster, who _actually_ had caused the greater harm for the least- provoked reason?

He knew the answer.

He reversed directions. Shuffling forward, eyes downcast, body stiff, Sans approached his brother and the child. He forced himself to reach out and ruffle the child's hair. For a second, he feared this would end him, yet nothing occurred except a quick shock of static electricity sparking his fingers. His bones rested lightly, safely, on top the human's head.

"heya kid," he murmured, voice even lower than typical. He forced his smile to appear comforting, though he could feel it wobbling from the gravity of many pained emotions. "don't you worry. there's two of us who know you've got a good heart."

After staring calculating at the human, a short study, he finished, "and in fact… i think we might be able to fix your problem."

* * *

 _[[File 11.2 GA-20060829]]_

He wandered into the basement. As he walked, his hand slid down the staircase railing idly. To his left, in the first main room, he could already see the shadow of his sparring partner. Gaster had leaned forward to push against the wall, pulling back on one calf to stretch it. Odd as it seemed, even skeletons needed to stretch.

Gaster stood straight when Sans entered the room. He peered at Sans' face with interest and remarked, with almost an air of levity, _"You managed to wash off the permanent marker? Impressive."_

 _"no thanks to you."_ Sans' cheeks still felt raw from last night's intense scrubbing. Papyrus had spared no enthusiasm helping his brother clean something. _"i still can't believe my_ boss _pinned me to the floor and drew on my face."_

 _"Just retribution."_

 _"you can't even draw."_

 _"To be fair, you were wiggling."_

 _"i wonder why."_

With a sudden, tactical topic shift, Gaster dismissed, _"Get warmed up."_ He took several steps away from Sans and continued stretching further away, as though intending to ignore him.

 _"wait a minute, doc. you are so not getting away with this."_

 _"Already have, thank you very much."_ That was smugness in his eyesockets. He could not deny it. Gaster was feeling smug. _"You may also want to check the community bulletin boards and main laboratory halls for the photograph of your makeover."_

Sans, chuckling despite the fact this meant he had more pranks to suffer through, remarked, _"when i first started messing with you, i had no idea you'd be the sort to fight back."_

 _"That one sock was your life's greatest undoing,"_ said Gaster with great severity. Then, switching the subject and peering intently over at Sans, he commented, _"anyway, you should warm up now. We will be attempting something new today with the blasters, and a little more challenging than typical. Tell me, Sans. Which eye is your dominant?"_

 _"left."_

 _"That should make things slightly easier. Mine as well. Watch."_

An enormous canid skull materialized to Gaster's side. It hovered there, in the dim light of the room, with a magic glow of its own.

 _"We've practiced control with the blaster, but the true key to mastery is becoming one with the blaster. It is an extension of your magic, and consequently…"_

Gaster's right eye suddenly winked out. It took Sans a little more time to realize the orb-like left eye of Gaster's blaster had also disappeared.

 _"…become one."_ And Gaster placed his hand forward, directing the blaster, and it responded. An enormous pulse of energy erupted out of its jaws.

 _"Your vision becomes shared with the blaster,"_ Gaster explained, even as he let the weapon disperse. As though it were dust, it puffed up and floated away. _"In a way, it becomes a second head. The blasters are not everyday conjured magic, the typical passive bullets we organize into shapes… but the blasters operate as an extension of oneself. It is a firmer mode of magic with which one can become conscious. I can carefully concentrate, and see out of both my own eye – the one glowing – and the eye of the blaster – the opposite eye, explicably enough. I have not one but two visions. I have not one body but two. With this heightened level of sensitivity and perception, one can control the blaster minutely, as well as harness magic powerful enough… that one blast from it could even kill a human."_

He had been following along eagerly enough, but Sans pulled his neck back in surprise at the final statement. _"whoa. that's nasty stuff. and you think im ready for that?"_

 _"Ready enough to begin learning. Now…"_

Sans sucked air into his mouth and at the same time forced his blaster to appear. It wavered for a long moment before visually stabilizing. At the same time, he concentrated, imagining his mind as one with the blaster. Gaster calmly instructed Sans on how to proceed, hands moving slowly and carefully. Over time, it was hard to see Gaster. Vision blurred. Vision…

 _"You nearly had it there, Sans. I know. The sensation of two parallel visions is overwhelming at first. Focus, and it will become less daunting over time."_

Inhale.

Two visions, two simultaneous visions…

Raised up a hand…

This was it.

The power.

The moment.

 _Kkk-chew!_

His blaster hiccupped. What may have been a spark squeaked out of its throat before it disappeared in a bouncing spasm.

A strange throaty noise tickled Sans' right. Gaster's shoulders bobbed up and down, and his cheekbones pulled up in a smirk. He was laughing. Not much more than a chuckle, but he _was_ laughing.

 _"you're laughing at me?"_ Sans protested in mock indignation.

Gaster forced a stoic expression back on his face. Amusement remained readable in his twinkling eyesockets, however. _"That actually was quite good for a first time. It is extraordinarily challenging to control."_ And, in a rare progression of events, Gaster cracked out a joke, _"looks like you won't be killing any humans, though, will you?"_

* * *

 _[[File 11.3 IH-20150701-3-6]]_

The small human child sat on their couch, feet dangling off the side of a cushion. They periodically swung their shoes and banged their heel against the sofa's side, causing the poorly-maintained furniture to jangle like a tambourine. The longer they waited, the more they improvised with their rhythm, as though composing a classical duet for couch and shoe. They were already drafting the third movement.

Sans knew the child's impatience would only escalate as he leafed through his old notes. However, the child needed to wait. His memories felt as dusty as the file cabinet from which he had retrieved these documents. Before addressing the human and proposing a solution to everyone's problems, he needed to refresh himself on some important information. Therefore, Sans lay on his belly on the floor, papers spread out in a fan all about him, and carefully perused through the information.

Hopefully, this would provide the solution to everyone's problems.

 _even you, old lady._

He struggled somewhat to decipher his notes, long unpracticed reading an alphabet of hand signs and squiggles. Often, by the time he finished decoding the end of one paragraph, he needed to backtrack to its start, having since forgotten the text's beginning ideas. Nor did it help that the transcript, even if it had been notated in straightforward Roman letters, consisted of extraordinarily dense documentation of scientific procedure. Almost no one could understand this. At the time the document had been composed, three – maybe four – monsters would have comprehended it. Now, Sans wondered if there were even one.

He mumbled at last, "welp, good enough." He turned to the human, now beginning to jingle the couch in complex syncopated rhythmic patterns, and addressed them, "heya, you wanna know how to fix all this?"

This sparked the human's interest, and, as Sans hoped, they quit pounding their feet against the cushions. Papyrus also meandered into the room at this point, and while Sans felt awkward discussing his old research with his brother in the room, he knew he needed to proceed and explain his planned solution.

Focusing on the human, he said, "Alright. So. Listen carefully.

"What we're going to try today is a little time travel.

"You're lucky, because that's, uh, something I've happened to study."

Numbed from the day's prior exhaustive ordeal, the human only nodded, believing Sans and not at all questioning the bizarre mention of "time travel". Meanwhile, Papyrus, milling in the background, frowned. Of course. Papyrus never knew what his brother had investigated in the laboratory. It was only natural he stared at Sans with puzzlement now.

 _sorry bro. the research was classified back then._

He concentrated on the human and began to speak, slowly and methodically, with a somber intonation he rarely used.

"So, humans are made mostly of water," Sans stated. "And monsters are made mostly of magic.

"This means that monsters are very strong with magic, but humans aren't.

"It's a fair give-and-take, because humans have stronger SOULs than monsters.

"Human: strong SOUL, weak magic. Monster: weak SOUL, strong magic. Get it?"

Both the human _and_ Papyrus nodded.

"Except that's, uh, not quite the whole story." He held up both hands and shrugged.

"Monsters, when using magic, can create all sorts of magic attacks and manipulate the elements. There's fire magic, water magic, gravity magic, bone magic, magic pellets, all sorts of things. It's magic in the present, manipulating matter. That's what monsters are best at. There are other uses of magic, of course, but that's where it's strongest.

"Humans can also use magic. It's not as natural to them, and only a few human magicians ever learn to use it effectively. Like monsters, humans use magic by tapping into energy from their SOUL. They have a tiny amount of the type of magic that monsters use. But mostly, human magicians use their own unique SOUL energy that has a different… type of strength than monster magic. It's its own essence. It's different and it has different strengths. Instead of working with matter like monsters, humans are better with time.

"That's why I'm bringing this up. You might not know it, but you, uh, should have the ability to time travel. You've got so much… _energy_ , of a kind… lingering inside your SOUL … that you should be able to will yourself into the past."

"I dunno how to do that," the child remarked, skeptical confusion painting over their high-pitched voice.

"no, I imagine not." Sans chuckled. "as i said, most humans don't know how to do this. and, in most circumstances, you would need a lotta trainin' to get there. humans aren't very attuned to their SOUL and what abilities they can use it for.

"here's the thing – this underground is _full_ of human SOUL energy. it's residue from when the they made the barrier."

The human appeared completely perplexed at Sans' comment, and he realized, belatedly, the human knew nothing about the barrier, let alone the details of how ancient magicians erected it. With an embarrassed snort, Sans backtracked.

"a long time ago, seven human magicians sealed us monsters into the underground forever.

"they used so much magic to seal us here that a lot of residual human SOUL energy has been mingling here ever since.

"it's given this place a _lot_ of strange properties. like, wow, believe me, it's wild.

"i don't have time to go into all of that, but let's just say that… timelines have gotten a lot wonkier since.

"now, the person with the most of that human magic, or SOUL energy, or whatever you wanna call it…

"…they've got an ability to harness that residue and go back in time.

"all it takes is something as simple as the thought, 'i want to go back in time.'

"now, probably only one person at a time can use the underground's residual energy. there's only so much energy to go around, ya know? it's sort of like playing a game of catch with a small ball… only one set of hands can hold onto, and control, the ball at any given time.

"but you. you're a _human_.

"if anyone's gonna be able to use it and go back in time, it's def you.

"with all the natural energy from your soul, PLUS all this stuff floating around from when the barrier was made, i'll bet that even with no training at all, you can figure out how to do it."

He could offer no better explanation than that, especially to one so young. With a wink and his most winsome smile, he finished, "so, whaddya say? wanna give it a shot?"


	14. 12: Socks

**12\. Socks**

 _[[File 12.1 GA-####-#-#]]_

 _"Did you just fingerspell an obscenity?"_ Gaster signed with a dry inflection. However, despite his formally rigid handshapes, distaste twisted his jawline and bafflement colored his eyesockets. It seemed Gaster could not quite believe this had occurred. Continuing on, he emphasized, _"I do not tolerate swearing in the office. Please refrain in the future."_

 _"well. just saying,"_ answered Sans in broken sign, _"you're not the person with a…"_ he laboriously spelled out a word _"…f-r-a-c-t-u-r-e-d foot bone._ OUCH!" The last word rocketed out loud, something Gaster would be thankful not to hear, as Sans shouted it right in the researcher's face.

The Royal Scientist paused from examining the injury to glare up at his charge. _"You_ FINGERSPELLED _a swear word. That is not an impulsive, interjectory response to something unpleasant, which is how expletives function in any language. What you just did is a useless, painstakenly slow gesture, a pathetic and indefensible excuse to spell out the word 'fuck'."_

 _"oh. is that how you sign it?"_ Sans grinned and began repeating the gesture right in front of Doctor Gaster.

With a sigh and no direct engagement of the problem, Gaster stood up. He remarked briefly, _"I must have given you too much painkiller,"_ and turned around to mourn he had taught his employee an obscenity.

* * *

 _[[File 12.2 GA-####-#-#]]_

Sans was still yawning into his coffee when he rambled through the laboratory front doors. He had rather impressively slipped a few fingers through the mug handle to carry the drink while simultaneously clutching onto crutches with palms. Plodding in a shuffle that belied his half-asleep state, he headed toward the main office, approached the mailboxes mounted in a matrix on the nearest wall, and rearranged the items he carried. The mug went into his right hand; the crutches leaned against the office desk; his left hand floundered toward his mail.

His finger bones shuffled inside the cubby for a long time. It could be hard enough to pluck paper from a slick surface awake; sleep-deprived and drowsy, Sans' poorly-coordinated fingers fumbled haplessly. Then he realized, belatedly, he was reaching into the wrong box. He pulled out his hand, reached into the _correct_ cubby, and to his surprise landed upon something soft and squishy.

 _what…?_

Sans stared groggily at the sock in his hand. It was white, with some dirt marks on the soles indicating it had been worn. A small note had been pinned to it. Sans did not recognize the handwriting; it was elegant cursive, but also seemed unsteady, as though the writer were unpracticed writing in it.

 _Mister Serif:_

 _I believe you made the error of misplacing your sock in my office yesterday. I found it when I walked into my room this morning and was besieged by a powerful, repulsive odor. I have two questions about this. First: this is how you thank me for checking your injury? Second: do you ever bathe? Please refrain from leaving such disgusting and pungent items in my office, elsewise expect me to discard your property in the waste bin, where it probably belongs anyway._

"Oh, uh, Sans. Sans! You're here today? After yesterday's accident?"

Sans lowered the note and rotated his neck. He had not realized that someone had stepped up behind him. Wearing a bright pink hoodie beneath his white laboratory coat – in stark ignorance of their formal dress code policy – Rain should not have been difficult to spot, even out of the corner of the eyesocket. Welp. It was early. Sans had not quite woken up. And maybe the latest round of painkillers for the fracture was fogging his mind, too. He had plenty of reasons for not noticing his colleague.

Belatedly, Sans realized he had not answered Rain's question.

Rain was continuing to talk on now, commenting, "I would have thought you'd take the day off. Because you got a fracture, right?"

"yup. i got a fracture. but i don't… need a _break_." Sans whacked his hands twice on the desk then snapped his fingers in a poor 'ba-dum tssh' mimic. Rain stared for a few seconds to process the poor wordplay, but then sniggered when he finally understood. If there was one thing Sans could appreciate about his colleague, it was that Rain usually laughed at his bad puns.

"Well, don't work yourself too hard today." Rain bobbed his head once and pulled up a sheepish grin. "Not like Gaster would let anyone overwork themselves."

"dontcha worry. i wouldn't let me overwork myself either." He realized he was fiddling with the sock in one hand and the letter in the other. His mind was beginning to wander from the small talk, and instead concern itself over the contents of Gaster's message. Sans could not be _certain_ of its tone… it could be read as condescending, or solemn, or biting… but as someone who tended to be mischievous himself, he could not help but detect a sense of humor beneath the words.

Regardless of whether or not it _was_ humor, Sans knew what he had to do about it.

"fact is, pal," Sans resumed mullingly, "ive got just one thing i wanna get done today." He dangled up the sock in front of Rain's face, causing his colleague to recoil at both the stench and its sudden barge into his personal bubble.

"A… sock."

"yup. that's right."

"You're not getting work done with a sock."

"sure am. gotta return it to where it belongs, is all."

"It's another practical joke, isn't it?" Rain winced. As much as he enjoyed Sans' verbal jokes, he always steered shy of any pranks. Rain liked to play it safe, and while the puns were bad, at least they never disrupted laboratory atmosphere. "Who is it this time? Is it…" And Rain caught sight of the note pinched between Sans' fingers. "That's Gaster's handwr… Wait a. Wait a. No, no. Oh my god. No. Stop right there, stop stop stop, stop right now! You are _not_ pranking Gaster. He's? ? the? ? head? ? of? ? the –"

And Rain's frantic babblings were cut off. Sans waved a hand casually through the air. "exactly. no one better to screw with than the big guy himself."

Despite Rain's protests, the prank happened. Despite Rain's protests, he helped Sans pull it off. Despite Rain's protests, the squirmy scientist turned out to be a good accomplice. Despite Rain's protests, he intentionally distracted Gaster for eight minutes in the hallway while Sans clunked gracelessly through the far corridor, staggered into Gaster's office, and completed his mission.

The office was immaculate. To the left of the door, there stood a bookcase, all the texts neatly aligned in alphabetical order by author. Of course it was alphabetical. Near the center of the room, a visitor's chair faced an office desk, an office desk with a beautiful, smooth, untouched, gleaming surface. Only one item rested on it: a family portrait. The rest of the surface was pristine, cleaner than the day it had left its manufacturers.

Sans plopped the sock dead center on the desk top.

He staggered out of the door, fleeing – best as he could with a fractured foot and crutches – to his own office on the far side of the building.

"I'm never doing that _again_!" Rain hissed, at a whisper, despite the fact Gaster would not have heard a protest at any volume. "That is – you hear me – the _last_ time I'm _ever_ getting involved in your stupid mischief! And if Gaster asks anyone who it is, you bet your stupid ketchup packets I will be the first to tell him that –"

"oh. he'll know who did it," Sans chuckled. He glanced in the direction of the Royal Scientist's now-contaminated office space. "some real immature weirdo. can't be too many of those odd sorts in the lab. ey. ya know anyone like that?"

Sans found himself gliding back home on his crutches at the end of the work day. What pride he felt. It might not have been that complicated of a joke – it really was at its most basic – but sometimes the simplest jokes reaped the greatest rewards.

He never actually saw Gaster's face the moment the Royal Scientist encountered the stray sock. The following morning, however, Sans found a second passive aggressive note taped to the outside of his office door.

 _Dear Doctor Serif:_

 _I threw your sock in the trash, as prior threatened. I also took the liberty of throwing some other garbage away._

The second half of the note sounded strange and nonsensical, though its meaning became clear the second Sans unlocked the room and found five socks resting in a small pile on the center of his own desk. Rather, they were splayed across several open textbooks – for there was no clear space on his desk – but the intent was obvious.

Sans found himself grinning in malicious eagerness. Oh. Calling his office trash and dumping more socks back at him? This game was _on._

 _"doctor gaster,"_ he stood in the Royal Scientist's office space, acting as though nothing unusual had befallen this room the prior day, fingerspelling and signing with an air of well-feigned casualty, _"heard there's some equipment malfunction going on in lab 2B-1? i think it's one of the fume hoods. nothing serious. but they were asking you to go look at it."_

Four minutes later Gaster marched back in the room with six offending socks in his hands.

 _"I believe the hood has been fixed,"_ Gaster said with cold severity. _"Someone was incorrectly using the equipment as a hamper."_ Not a spark of emotion left his eyesockets.

The next day, no note decorated the outside of Sans' door. He found nothing in his mailbox, either. He did, however, find the six socks back on his desk the following morning. All had been made into elaborate puppets. It did not escape Sans' attention that the rattiest, dirtiest sock had been modeled to look like him.

"heya rain. look. im a puppet." He wiggled his hand, making the googly eyes shake.

"Oh my god, Sans. Take that sock off your hand and help me finish this test!"

He raised up his other hand – wearing a puppet of _Rain_ – and started to imitate his flustered lab partner.

Several more days passed before Sans introduced himself to the laboratory janitor. She peered at him askance behind thick, round glasses, wide lips pursed into a skeptical frown, yet after enough cajoling, tossed him the keys. "None of my business, none of my responsibility," she muttered, clearly done with Life. She trudged into the closet and threw the mop into the corner, where it clattered on the floor and lay there the rest of the evening.

Sans, already chuckling to himself, prepared for a sleepless night. Oh, but it would be _worth_ it.

He reclined in an office chair – rolled out from Gaster's office – right inside the main double doorway, sipping an enormous cup of coffee. Doctor Wings Dings Gaster always arrived first in the building every day, striding in early to prepare for every team, project, and proposal he would need to review. While Gaster did not crash into Sans, he did stumble, just for a step, upon sighting the other skeleton.

Sans pulled up his most winsome smirk. Slowly, he lowered his coffee cup into his lap. Wheeling toward Gaster – who had tried to march past him without a greeting – Sans suavely hailed, _"good morning, doctor gaster."_

The scientist met Sans' gaze eyesocket per eyesocket. It was a dead, expressionless stare. But the manner in which Gaster looked upward and toward the left – the exact location of his office – betrayed his thoughts.

At an unusually brisk pace, Gaster set for the stairs. He trotted up hurriedly. Sans, ignoring the crutches and opting to wheel himself on the chair to the elevator, pursued Gaster through his own indirect route. He arrived in time to spy the Royal Scientist's discovery and reaction.

Like burgeoning mushrooms, a mycological infestation, socks sprouted from every available surface in the room. Not an inch had been spared. One could not spy the spine of a single book; the ceiling-high shelves had become wardrobes, storing stacks and stacks and stacks and stacks and stacks of balled-up socks. Blue socks. Black socks. Pink socks. Green. They had been arranged into patterns – smiles grinning maliciously from each shelf.

Socks coated the entire floor like a ball pit. They might as well have been the carpet. Socks were hung from the ceiling, dangling from fishing wire in an upside-down jungle of footware. They looked like giant, blooming mops. Wherever the ceiling fan and lights were, no one would be able to tell.

Gaster tread forward slowly, soaking in the sudden changed climate in his office. The socks muffled his footfalls as brown toed shoes trod forward. Sock slowly swung from fishing wire as they brushed past his head. He peered down at his desk chair with an expressionless gaze. The seat was covered in a cauliflower of socks. Slowly, his left hand reached out and pulled open the nearest desk drawer. Papers were probably supposed to be stored here. He discovered only socks. Gaster opened the drawers one by one. Socks. Socks. Yet more socks.

The desk surface itself hosted its fair colony of socks. They were arranged to spell out three simple words.

 _get dunked on_.

Royal Scientist Wings Dings Gaster finally turned and looked Sans in the eyesocket. For a moment, his face slipped into a smile.

He did order Sans to clean the office space, though.

Only took seven hours to return it to its prior homeostatic socklessness.

The next day in the laboratory consisted of an undisrupted calm, cheery, content, but also productive atmosphere. The day after passed similarly. And the day after. Two weeks following the event, Sans concluded he must have won their contest. The war, as entertaining as this campaign had been, ended.

He stepped into his workspace, where a laundry basket precariously balanced on the top of the door toppled down and showered him with socks.

…or not.

At the very least, though, Gaster could not top Sans' last prank. As Sans stood in the pile of socks, reflecting upon the event, he noted that this was a far scale below the quality of his prior trick. Gaster's room had been bedecked – it had taken him the entire work day to remove the most prominently placed socks in the room – and he still on occasion encountered another one Sans had failed to clean. Turning on the ceiling fan had been a surprise. But what Gaster had done to Sans here was a simple, common college prank. Amusing, Sans assessed, still loitering in the pile, but not extraordinary.

 _heh. i got him worse,_ Sans smugly thought.

Then… he realized he was wrong.

Oh so wrong.

These socks were _sticky_. And… still covering him… head to toe.

An hour later, in the restroom, looking like a headless multi-colored cloth cauliflower, he grumbled to Rain, "what kind of adhesive is this hell?"

His colleague muttered under his breath – sounded like something about wasting lunch hour. With a vicious tug, Rain yanked off a single sock and placed it in a growing wad on the floor. It took several tries before he pulled it off his own hand.

"Probably just the glue he uses to keep his glasses on. The big question for me," Rain said, trying to figure out where Sans' face was, "is how you two keep getting into each other's offices when they're supposed to be locked."

Sans just responded with a surprised yelp as Rain wrench off another sock.

"I swear there is not a single mature person in our physics department."

He found socks in his refrigerator. Socks inside his sandwiches, balled cotton replacing meat and cheese. Socks taped on the outside of his windows blocking out the light. Socks leading long trails up and down the workspace, first floor, second floor, basement. Rainbow colored socks tied together and hung from the ceiling like streamers on his birthday. Gaster, in turn, opened up packages of ordered laboratory equipment… only to find socks packed in each and every box. Everyone in the laboratory automatically began returning socks to Sans and Gaster whenever they encountered one in the workspace. No one said a word, just passively handed off the item and trudged away. They might as well have been sharing paperwork.

Some days were, naturally, more boring than others. Nevertheless, there remained a constant, tense atmosphere, as though at any moment, one could be clobbered by socks.

And yet there were always more plots to be put into motion.

Sans sidled up to Doctor Pearson with a winsome grin. "heeeeeyyyya rraaaain," he said. "you do photography, too. amirite?"

The doctor continued shuffling through research articles. In the process, he dropped a few pages, scattering the results section out of order. In fits, Rain whined, "If this is about socks I swear on your…"

"nope. not everything's about socks, pal. relax. just want to try out a new hobby."

Rain turned. Grabbed one paw on each side of Sans' cheekbones. Clamped his palms down hard. Pulled his colleague up close and studied him, eye to eyesocket, with utter severity. "Are… you… telling… the… truth?" No one had ever been cured of gullibility as quickly as Rain had been, working with Sans.

"sure. can't fool you anymore."

"Hmmm…"

"bud, you should like this. it's less disruptive."

"You could take a piece of grass and make it disruptive," Rain reminded him.

"heh heh heh heh. true. if you put the blade of grass between your thumbs and blow hard, you can make a _real_ obnoxious noise."

"Case in point." Rain dropped his hands from Sans' face to cross his arms. He demanded, "Why are you interested in photography?"

"welp, no one else's gonna take pics of my bro and me."

Rain found himself rigging up a motion camera in Gaster's office, pointed in the general direction of the gigantic sock catapult Sans had finally finished.

"This is _the last time_ I'm helping you, Sans, you hear me? The LAST time."

"yeah. i hear ya." Not as though Sans believed it. He could hear Rain shuffling unhappily down the hallway, storming out Gaster's office doorway toward the stairwell, but Sans paused to admire his work. All it would take to set off the contraption would be his supervisor opening up the door. There was a trip wire near the floor. In the morning, Gaster would not only be catapulted with several hundred socks, but Sans would be able to take an embarrassing action photograph out of the event. Perfect blackmail.

Sans should have known better than to trust all would occur as planned.

He stared at the community board two days later, laughing and shaking his head. One of his co-workers, Doctor Albertus, commented from beside him, "That's quite the shocked expression on your face, Sans."

Sans was still trying to puzzle out how Gaster had completely avoided setting off the trap in his own office, but had rather quickly transplanted it to Sans' and turned the prank against the prankster.

"Serves you right," Albertus burped, and shuffled away from the billboard.

There was only one day of the year that Sans had been forbidden to launch a sock prank. Sans himself reluctantly agreed it for the best. Annually, the king himself visited every branch of the Royal Laboratories, toured the projects to see their progress first-hand, and spoke at length with Doctor Gaster about research process and goals. Gaster pointed to the date firmly on the calendar, and emphasized to the research team, _"We must maintain nothing less than the most proper decorum on this day. Doctor Pearson, Doctor Calibri, please ascertain you follow dress code protocol properly for once. Hoodies are not formal attire, even with a lab coat worn over them. Donus –"_ he turned to his translator _"– some of those posters in your workspace are humorous, which is why I allow them, but perhaps they could be hidden for the day? Thank you very much. Doctor Serif..."_ a piercing stare _"…you know_ exactly _what not to do."_

Half of the scientists sniggered.

Sans said, _"sure thing, boss. so long as you don't do it either."_

The other half of the research team laughed.

Gaster glared at Sans for mentioning publicly his involvement in the sock debacle, even if everyone on the team obviously knew how determinedly the head Royal Scientist battled. Some individuals had even begun keeping score on the whiteboard in the break room, though there had been debate about whether or not to mark each prank as a solid one point each, or whether to weigh pranks by value based upon their perceived efficacy and creativity. Most tallies, regardless of the actual numerical score, placed Gaster slightly ahead of Sans, though not by much.

 _"i'll be good,"_ Sans assured him, this time more seriously responding. He could see that the Royal Scientist truly took these yearly evaluations seriously. If anything, Gaster appeared a little skittish about the monarch's upcoming visit. He would not tread against his friend's worries. For Gaster was becoming a friend, was he not?

Yet for all Sans maintained a careful vigilance on the calendar, he peered in consternation when an enormous purple-garbed figure shuffled through the double-doors, crown nearly clunking on the top of the door frame. Doctor Gaster, beside Sans, abruptly seized the shorter skeleton in a death grip. Yanking Sans by the shoulders down the hallway, Gaster pulled them out of sight down the corner. Pretending, futilely, as though all his emotions were controlled, Gaster insisted to Sans, _"You must translate."_

 _"what?"_

 _"PLEASE."_ Gaster placed his flattened palm on his chest and rotated in a circle. _"Donus is out of the office today. Your understanding and usage of sign is incomplete, but should suffice today on this last minute notice. Please interpret for the day."_

 _"wait. so i didn't just lose track of the days? the king isn't supposed to be here today?"_

 _"Will you or will you not assist me?"_ Gaster persisted.

At this moment an enormous avalanche of white squeezed through the hallway, taking over the corner and filling every last inch of the hallway in white. Even at the intersection between two hallways, King ASGORE barely fit in the building. He appeared content and comfortable enough, though, with a warm if somewhat sheepish smile squiggling over his muzzle.

"Oh! Doctor Gaster. There you are." A voice this low and rumbly should not have sounded so sweet. He beamed down at the two skeletons. "Howdy!"

Gaster insistently elbowed Sans in the ribs, an action which snapped Sans out of staring – he had seen the king at a distance, but had never encountered him up close – and reminded him about his duties in this pressing situation. Oh. Right. Awkwardly, Sans switched into sign, as ASGORE continued on, "I'm sorry for coming in unexpected. My plans changed. My schedule is so busy as king… this is the only time I could make it. I'm lucky I could come at all. I hope you don't mind?"

It was challenging to keep up with ASGORE's pace, but Sans attempted his best. He felt pretty impressed with himself until Gaster inserted in, not even responding to ASGORE, but instead correcting Sans, _"you said s-p-i-c-y, not l-u-c-k-y. LUCKY. At least, I would assume that's what you meant to sign."_

Gee thanks, Gaster. That really inspired Sans' confidence to be interpreting right now.

 _"like this?"_ He imitated the sign.

 _"that's h-o-t."_

Welp. Great. He had just called the king of the underground hot and spicy. It _was_ sort of funny though…

Giving up on Sans' accuracy, and of course wishing to maintain a calm, pleasant, and professional propriety, Doctor Gaster instead returned, _"By all means, this is of no inconvenience to us. It is wonderful you can see the Royal Laboratories today. It is never a hindrance to the team for the leader of the underground to examine our work. We are always thankful to have you visit."_ Only his redundancy betrayed his nervousness.

For Sans, though, at least that translation direction was easier to interpret, even with Doctor Gaster's unforgivingly unsimplified eloquence. ASGORE beamed upon hearing the welcoming response, exclaiming, "Wonderful!"

 _"If you would be so kind as to follow me, I can give you the tour of the laboratory and explain the current research projects being developed."_

The trio circled around the first floor, pausing alongside the glass windows of each laboratory while the Royal Scientist explicated the nature of their work. Afterwards, they entered inside to carefully peer at the progress first-hand. The first laboratory, housing a physics project of which Sans had once been a part, passed without interpretational incident; even when Sans could not comprehend or recapitulate one of Gaster's articulate linguistic choices, he could substitute with his own explanation and accurate vocabulary to ASGORE. The biology research laboratory, coming second, required more pausing, repeating, and clarifying fingerspelling for unknown vocabulary; as quickly exhausting as this task was becoming for Sans, ASGORE thankfully found himself contented with simple basics. No scientist himself, ASGORE enjoyed hearing about progress and goals. Minute details meant nothing.

As they reached the stairwell on the east end of the laboratory, Doctor Gaster paused, then decided to proceed to the basement. They circled around and descended downward. Shoes echoed on concrete and darkness cast shadows over them, at least until they arrived at the tile at the bottom of the stairway and Gaster could reach for a light. A single long, narrow hallway opened up to them, doors on either side. Gaster passed the first room on the left – which was mostly empty – but paused at the second door, where recently set-up inside was research equipment for a new physics project.

Though Gaster had allowed ASGORE to step in and carefully wander about the research equipment of other laboratories, the Royal Scientist avoided opening the door to this room. And, being as the room had not originally been a laboratory, there were no windows open to gaze inside and spy the activity. So far as ASGORE could see, they were standing outside of a regular door with regular walls.

 _"I apologize for not opening this room,"_ Gaster signed, though oddly fumbled at the words, as though formulating a false excuse, _"equipment has only recently been set up, and as is such, the workspace remains rather cluttered. There is not much to view at this point in time, but I am more than happy to explain the nature of this experiment. I, alongside Doctor Rain Pearson, and Sans Serif here, whom you have met, will be investigating matters of quantum teleportation. Unique photon patterns recorded by past experiments of other research teams indicate –"_

At that moment, a figure shuffled past, a figure in a bright orange hoodie. A crumpled laboratory jacket was half-covering the lumpy coat. "Oh. Oh. I am _so_ sorry. I am sorry. I'll just…" Rain winced, realizing he had stepped in the middle of an important debriefing between the King of the Underground and his Royal Scientist. Rain ducked down so low he almost crawled on the floor. "Sorry, sorry," he squeaked to the king, "Y-your Majesty. I'm supposed to be working in here. Um, can I – may I – step past? Sorry… sir?"

Sans completely ignored signing, reached out to try to grab Rain before the scientist could enter the laboratory. "rain, maybe you –"

But hurriedly slipping inside and shutting the door, Rain never noticed his colleague's concerned expression.

He heard it a second later. It came at once, without warning, without crescendo: one second it was silent, the next, cacophonous. Out from the other side of the wall exploded a piercing shriek, a terrified wail, high-pitched and haunting, like something out of a horror film. Its unholy screams reached the damned.

 _"AUGHHHH! ! ! THE SOCKS! ! ! THE SOCKS! ! ! OH MY GOD THE SOCKS! ! ! SO MANY SOCKS! ! ! ! !"_

Sans stared in horror at the door.

ASGORE stared in horror at the door.

Unrelenting wails foreshadowed the gates of hell.

Gaster stood calmly outside, completely unaware of the caterwauling within. He alone remained unperturbed. He raised his hands to continue explaining the experiment, but Sans reached out, hurriedly pushing down the Royal Scientist's arms. He shook his head and pointed toward the door.

Sans had never seen Gaster terrified before.

Until now.

 _"OH MY GOD!"_ the voice continued from within. _"SANS? ! ! WINGS DINGS? ! ! YOU_ BOTH _BOOBYTRAPPED THIS ROOM? OH MY GOD, HOW MANY SOCKS ARE_ IN _THIS MESS?! ! AUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHH!"_

Every second standing outside this door put the two to greater shame. Gaster did not have to hear it to know he had been humiliated.

 _"SANS, I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME IN HERE! YOU WATCH OUT! YOU'VE GONE TOO FAR! ! WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU TWO, I SWEAR I AM GOING TO –"_

 _"Maybe,"_ Gaster shook, _"we should leave Doctor Pearson to his studies, and we… go… upstairs."_

ASGORE, still staring in dread at the door, hurriedly agreed.


	15. 13: Launch

**13\. Launch**

 _[[File 13.1 GA-20060802-#-#]]_

 _"GET READY,"_ Gaster dictated, crossing the pointer and middle fingers on both his hands and shaking them away from his body. After signing, he raised up his right hand to fidget with one of his glasses frames. Though he touched the frame, his correction was so minute that he might not have budged the lenses at all.

A pretty nervous gesture for the impeccable, unperturbable Royal Science.

Sans responded, _"we're ready_." He glanced over at Rain and nodded at the same time he signaled Doctor Gaster.

 _"GOOD."_ Flattened hand left teeth.

Beside the machine, Rain cowered, sucking in short, shaky breaths and forgetting to exhale. He curled his fingers tightly around one another and pressed his skinny arms up against his body. Beneath his eyes, heavy bags sagged; the scientist had slept little last night, instead fastidiously checking and rechecking every inch of the machine. Sans, a night owl himself, had kept Rain at first, but when he recognized his colleague would not quit until the experiment appointment the following afternoon, he left to find assistance. Only when Royal Scientist Doctor Wings Dings Gaster himself tread into the room and demanded Rain stop did Rain stop. Sans and Gaster had hauled Rain away, assuring him that they had verified his calculations, that the experiment could not be more ready, and that Rain, as one of the most intelligent technical minds in the underground, ought to be more confident of his own work. But Sans could tell, observing Rain cringe before the machine now, that his friend had barely slept – if at all – last night.

Rain noticed Sans staring at him.

 _"I FINE,"_ Rain signed insistently.

He didn't want to start a SOUL-searching conversation, even had they not been in the preparations of groundbreaking research, but he did want to point out the obvious farce in Rain's comment. Sans poked, _"do you mean it?"_

 _"Let's just get this over and done with. It should go fine."_ His hands were snappish, a rarity for Rain.

 _"it'll be just like my teleportation,"_ Sans assured him. _"a nice, safe journey that's been carefully prepared for with years of research."_

The two exchanged supportive nods.

Even Gaster declared, intending comfort, _"Calculations ensure a successful launch. All prior, meticulously-designed experiments with macroscopic magic-channel time travel indicate the short jump of a sapient creature will be safely accomplished."_

 _"the party's coming soon, rain. we'll be clinking glasses together in victory. and it'll all be because of today."_

 _"Machine power-up complete,"_ said Rain.

 _"Commence experiment."_

 _"initiating jump in five… four… three… two…"_

* * *

 _[[File 13.2 SA-20060511-#-#]]_

Sans rarely visited the main lab anymore. The majority of his days he spent deep within the CORE researching time travel with Rain and, on less frequent occasions, the Royal Scientist himself. Nevertheless, as Sans' office remained located in the Hotland laboratory site, and as he still was required to file paperwork like any other government employee, he now-and-then entered through those old white double-doors. With an off-key whistle, he sauntered into the building now, intending to grab a few needed articles before returning to the CORE.

Apart from his whistle, Sans heard little noise – just the buzz of the lights overhead, the soft whisper of air shifting through vents, and nothing else. Few scientists scurried through the corridors. Since it neared dinnertime, most workers had probably signed off their shifts, retired for the night, and returned home to spend time with friends and families. Only a few late busybodies greeted Sans.

"Oh Sans, how are you doing?"

"heya, cynthia. it's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Too long. We need to catch up!"

"yeah, sure. later, though. i've got some things to do tonight."

Continuing forward. Sans turned himself right and proceeded down the final hallway to his office.

"S-S-Sans! Is that y-you?"

Out from the corner of his eyesocket, Sans recognized a golden lizard. She shuffled forward awkwardly and at the same time pulled forth her most winsome smile. It was perhaps more lose-some than win-some, but Sans appreciated her friendliness – especially as he knew the young intern tended to shy away rather than welcome.

"yup. it's me. last time i checked, anyway, though i admit that's been a while."

"Heh." Alphys appeared to find his response only somewhat amusing. However, her grin wilted no more than usual. She _did_ seem excited to see him; and Sans recalled, a little ashamedly, it had been quite some time since the last time they had conversed.

Perhaps he could afford a few minutes' delay.

"you look like you're in a good mood."

For the first time, Sans realized Alphys held a clipboard between her claws. Pulling up the board and snuggling it close to her chest, Alphys responded, as upbeat as she ever got, "I g-g-guess today has b-been a good d-day!" She paused, glanced at Sans as though to judge whether or not he would listen, and then continued, "I h-had a little time today to do more r-r-research on one of my favorite topics."

"asgore, amirite?"

Alphys blushed deep red. She reached out and whacked Sans on the arm with her clipboard – a surprisingly violent gesture for her – and then pretended as though the other scientist had never made the remark. However, her stutters worsened, betraying her shaken thoughts.

"I f-f-f-found another p-p-paper on t-time t-t-travel and alternate, um, universes?"

With a low laugh he hoped did not betray his sense of irony, Sans responded, "you research alternate universes?" _and she's not on the team with rain, gaster, and me?_

"W-well, th-that's not why Gaster h-h-hired me." Alphys shrugged. "It's not what I d-do every day in the lab, anyway. I've g-g-got another job. But it _is_ something I'm interested in and research on my s-spare time."

"now that's pretty cool. what've you read up?"

"There's actually a good p-possibly that other alternate universes exist." Having finally forgotten Sans' teasing Asgore comment, Alphys now began babbling about the research she loved, and rambled with more-than-typical alacrity. Her stutter almost vanished. "There's an increasingly popular interpretation of quantum physics that says that, for every event that can only be predicted by p-probability, rather than be absolutely d-determined ahead of time… then there's a universe in which b-both possible outcomes exist. Research done by humans has shown that there could be a weak coupling between worlds. So separate worlds would be able to interact a-a-and…" Alphys' speech slowed. Her face wrinkled into a pained contortion, and Sans even believed he saw sweat form on her brow. "…but you know all that, don't you?" she groaned. "You're a quantum physicist."

"yeah, but i never get tired listening to people speak my language." Sans clapped her heartily on the back and winked.

"There aren't enough of us physics enthusiasts in the world," Alphys agreed, her laughter indicating relief that Sans took no offense to her unneeded explanation. "D-do you… what do you think about the many worlds interpretation?"

"welp, anything's possible." Sans shrugged. His eyesockets dropped down, he pulled his chin toward his neck, and stared at the floor. "heh." He started angling his torso away from Alphys, a subtle body language indication he needed to continue forward rather than mingle and chat. "you keep me updated if you find anything, okay, alphys?"

"Uh, s-s-sure!" She lapsed into an awkward silence.

Filling in the quiet gap, Sans provided a casual wave. "was great hearing from ya. wish i could stay and talk more, but i have to get going. can't believe you dragged me away from work this long."

"See you around?"

"see you. crack parallel universe travel for me, will you?"

They waved. Alphys trundled down the hallway, clipboard swinging from her paw, while Sans turned away with a pondering expression on his skull. His mind was whirling. _alphys… if only you knew what we've already discovered._

* * *

 _[[File 13.3 SA-20150705-#-#]]_

A formidable blast rocked the house. Sans awoke at once, staring in alarm as, outside their front window, half the snow from the roof catapulted off the house and crashed to the ground, forming an instantaneous foot-high wall around the perimeter. Silence followed, uncomfortable stillness, yet the house quivered in terror for the next minute. Sans could feel the couch rocking beneath him; could hear the rafters buzzing; could almost _see_ the floor shaking. How was the television still upright? That boom could have knocked their low, sturdy _couch_ to the ground.

 _what the hell could that have b…_

Papyrus rushed past Sans, far more awake and conscious of their current environment. After spinning in silly circles around the living room like a wound-up ballerina, he charged up to the entry and yanked open the door.

Sans blinked, comprehension slowly reaching cognizance. _was that unwholesome noise just a_ knock _?_ he marveled in disbelief.

Sans shifted his weight on the cushions to peep over the arm of the couch, curious as to why they had a visitor, and who it was. Not everyone knocked so loudly they hurled all the snow off a house's roof in the process.

When Papyrus first opened the door, Sans thought he only sighted snow, for an enormous mound of _whiteness_ squished between door frames. When that mound blinked, Sans realized who this individual was.

Papyrus recognized him, too. Throwing his gloves to his face and letting out a whoop, the skeleton exclaimed, "OH MY GOD! ! ! SANS! LOOK! THE KING HAS COME TO VISIT US! !"

Once in his life, Sans might have felt conscientious about his appearance. Dressed in an unironed wad of fabric he pulled off the floor this morning, and sprinkled liberally in popato chip crumbs, Sans hardly wore garb fit for the presence of a king. In truth, his clothes would not have been fit for any public eye. Had he cared. Those fretful years of anxious childhood had long since passed him by; he pulled himself off the couch to greet their visitor, but did not even bother to brush chip crumbs off his clothing. He slipped his hands automatically into his pockets at the same time he greeted, with some restrained curiosity, "hi, asgore."

"Howdy."

Asgore only found time to speak those two syllables before he was cut off.

Papyrus trumpeted, scurrying through the house willy-nilly, "HIS MAJESTY HAS FINALLY RECOGNIZED MY EXCELLENCE! THIS IS IT! I AM GOING TO BE POPULAR! POPULAR! ! POPULAR! ! ! AM I ACCEPTED INTO THE ROYAL GUARD? OR ARE YOU HERE TO MAKE MY FOOD MUSEUM A NATIONAL LANDMARK?"

"Um…" said Asgore. It appeared the only thing he had to say, for the moment. His large amber eyes shifted several times from left to right as he attempted to find a response. However, no response could be located in the house, not on the floor next to a flourishing collection of socks, nor near the precariously leaning tower of soda cans, and especially not beside the action figures stationed across the dining room table. Asgore did pause, however, to stare at the figures, as they were in a rather peculiar arrangement: they stood in a circle, holding up a plate of glittering spaghetti. It resembled some form of ancient sacrificial altar.

"SPAGHETTI IT IS!" Papyrus crowed. He nearly shot to the ceiling in excitement. As it was, he stumbled over his own boots five times before finally remembering how to take a step forward, and then nearly crashed into the oven as he spun to the kitchen. Gloves triumphantly jerked open the refrigerator door. "BEHOLD! 'FEAST' YOUR EYES ON THE GREATEST WONDER OF THE UNDERGROUND!"

"Um."

"ONLY EYE FEASTING," Papyrus clarified, closing his own eyesockets and pointing to the chest as he proudly orated. "NO MOUTH FEASTING FOR THIS SPECIAL COLLECTION OF FINELY-CRAFTED NOODLES.

"ALTHOUGH," and his face softened at once, "I AM MORE THAN HAPPY TO COOK PASTA FOR THE KING! THE FOOD WILL BE JUST AS DELIGHTFUL AS THESE EXHIBITS HERE!"

"Pasta sounds wonderful." Asgore spoke gratefully, as though this were indeed the reason he stepped inside their house. Only a slight catch in his voice betrayed his confusion. Sans admired how adeptly the king concealed it. "Do you also happen to have tea?"

"I THINK WE HAVE SOME BLACK TEA FROM UNDYNE'S LAST VISIT," Papyrus mused. He peeped into the cupboards and let out an excited guffaw that proved the beverage was indeed stocked. "TEA PASTA IT IS!"

"I didn't mean…" Asgore cumbersomely began, but cut himself off before finishing his thought. His bulky body shifted slightly while he watched Papyrus dump a full eight ounces of loose leaf black tea on top of uncooked perciatelli noodles, splash a generous dose of water from the sink on top of the mix, and throw it on the stove to heat.

Papyrus planted his fists to his hips as though he had conquered the world. In a booming voice suited for a gallant knight, the skeleton declared, "MY CULINARY MASTERPIECE WILL BE READY IN FIFTEEN MINUTES! !"

"Thank you, that is very kind of you," Asgore said, even as his eyebrows rose in worry. He continued to stare at the tea as it boiled in the pan with Papyrus' noodles. Mournful regret colored his irises.

"we also have soda if you want to drink something else," Sans offered. Even if Asgore could drink noodles, they probably would not be palatable after fifteen minutes of Papyrus' abuse.

"NO, WE HAVE CANS. NO SODA. CANS! AND YOUR CANS SHOULD BE CLEARED OUT IMMEDIATELY, NOW THAT OUR HOME IS BECOMING A DISTINGUISHED MUSEUM! !"

"there might be some liquid left in one of them…" Sans mused, and began to lean closer to investigate.

"Water is fine," Asgore assured them. He appeared even more concerned than before and eyed the tower as though it were about to bite him. When the king frowned to study Sans, his appearance remained comely; however, Sans suspected the monarch was analyzing his well-being and how much Sans had changed since the last time they spoke. And that Asgore found his current state… wanting.

"what flavor?" Sans asked.

"Oh, you have flavored water?" Asgore seemed pleased at this prospect.

"water-flavored water."

Papyrus unleashed a harsh, irritated groan from the kitchen. However, Sans' trollish remark prompted his brother to reach for a clean glass, fill it from the sink, and hand it off to Asgore, who accepted it with a genteel nod. The monarch's enormous paw dwarfed the glass of water. He raised the glass to his lips and tried to drink around both the white hair already accumulating in his glass and the hair poofing around his face.

"This is good water," Asgore declared in a desperate attempt to act like a grateful guest. The kindhearted king strained his bass voice in the effort.

Papyrus shouted competitively, "THIS IS EVEN BETTER SPAGHETTI! YOU WILL FORGET THE TASTE OF THE WATER WHEN YOU SMELL THE SWEET AROMAS WAFTING FROM MY ARTISAN STATION!"

Poor Asgore almost appeared ready to flee. Only great determination must have kept him rooted in the brothers' house.

Sensing that their guest wished to talk and brief them on the true purpose of his visit, Sans gestured to the couch and inquired, "so, want to sit?"

Asgore accepted the offer with alacrity that betrayed his great size. He landed heavily on the couch, fur overflowing from arm rest to arm rest, masking every inch of cushion in white hair, and leaving Sans to gracelessly stand in front of his king. That was fine. Once Asgore stood up, Sans doubted he would even find a couch anymore. Maybe a flattened pile of cushions and broken springs, but not a couch.

"I hope I am not bothering you today," the monarch began. The tone in his voice suggested he was beginning to settle down into business. His eyes rested on Sans as he pulled up a weighty smile. It was very kind but did not appear happy.

"nope, not bothering at all."

"Okay. Good. Good." Asgore's words sounded a little distracted. He pointed with one large paw behind Sans and asked, in a low voice which resembled a distant earthquake, "It happened in there, didn't it?"

Sans paused, momentarily puzzled, before he understood Asgore's question. "the kitchen? yes, that's where the human was," he said.

"You did a great service to the underground stopping them."

"the captain of your guard seemed a little upset."

"Did she? That's odd." Asgore shrugged. The weight of his shoulders sliding downward crushed the cushions to either side of him. If they had not been flattened before, they certainly were now. "Undyne has fought her whole life for other monsters' hopes and dreams. She's wanted nothing more than to get the seventh human SOUL. Maybe…" He reflected. "I think she's only upset now because she's surprised and confused. Undyne thought that she or I would take the human, not you." His voice softened to something barely audible.

At this comment, Asgore paused, and gestured once more to the kitchen. This time, however, he pointed to a specific chef clattering away at troublingly loud volumes: Papyrus, dancing in place, twirling the noodles in his pot, and humming some zany minor melody. "He's not going to hear any of this, is he?" the king inquired in a rumble.

"my bro? no. when he gets in the zone, he gets in the zone. he'll be occupied for the next ten minutes and wouldn't even notice if a hurricane of dogs tore through the house."

With that assuring response, Asgore returned to their previous topic. "Undyne is probably confused because she doesn't know about…" his expression turned uncertain "… _those_. You used Them, didn't you?"

No need to request clarification. Both king and subject understood exactly what "Them" referred to. Sans released his nervousness by clenching and unclenching his fists in his jacket pockets. Presumably, Asgore would not see the motion, and remain oblivious to his conversant's discomfort. "uh, i might have," Sans responded with uncertainty. "the memory's pretty blurry, but… um… yeah, i might have. maaaaaybe? sorry. i know you asked me to keep those classified, but…"

"It's okay. You did what you had to."

The two listened to Papyrus bash pots together for half a minute. Asgore drank the entire contents of the dwarfed water glass in one gulp.

"Even if other monsters learned about the weapons, most wouldn't be able to master them," he said after his drink. "The old doctor tried to show me how they worked, but I could never learn them."

"i never got very good, either," Sans admitted. "and i think i was the only person he tried to train outside of you? yeah… he was the only one who mastered those blasters." A thought crossed Sans' mind, and he chuckled. "heh heh heh. gaster the blaster master."

Asgore said, "You must not be too bad. You stopped the human safely without hurting your brother."

"i guess. i dunno, i'm not a fighter or anything. i just acted… in the moment." Sans would not admit to the king he had attacked the human in impulsive fear. After all, he could not explain from where the fear originated. Of all individuals, Asgore might have been one of the few who would heed Sans' words rather than disregard them as ridiculous yarns, yet the last action Sans wished to take was bare his SOUL to the king of the underground.

Asgore accepted Sans' vague explanation and responded, "That's what is important."

Nevertheless, the conversation did not feel concluded. Something else lingered in the task, some unknown agenda which the monarch had not yet made know. Sans' eyesockets narrowed. "are you getting at something, king?" he asked.

The large Boss Monster took a moment to glance at his empty glass before responding, "Well, you _did_ turn me down the last time I offered you something."

"royal scientist was not a good gig for me. believe me."

"You were the most qualified person after the inci –"

"that's not the point." A hurried cut-off. He knew his sockets were black.

"I hope you are doing well anyway?" The king avoided looking at Sans and gestured about the living room. Asgore could not seem to comprehend the scenery around him… the stark clash of pristine, well-vacuumed carpets against an impressive mountain range of odorous socks. His eyes returned to the spaghetti-wielding action figures with renewed unease.

"dandy," said Sans. In some respects, the truth. In many other respects, an enormous lie. His fists clenched tighter in his pockets.

"Anyway, whether you admit it or not, you did a great thing, and I would like you around if we needed something like that again. The Royal Scientist is looking at the shattered SOUL. If Dr. Alphys' tests show we can use it to open the barrier…"

Sans' sockets remained black, and he spoke slowly, suspiciously. "Wait a second… The war isn't over yet, is it?"

That would answer the question all the monsters in the underground had dared not ask, or had forgotten to, in the middle of their celebrations.

Asgore said, "I declared war to give my people hope. I want peace now, but when the barrier is broken, that is not the end of our journey. I must keep to my word for the war on humanity."

Ominous… silence.

The king's voice cracked in sadness, but he stumblingly sought to justify his decision. "We don't know if the humans on the other side are peaceful. The last time monsters crossed the barrier, we got proof…" Asgore did not finish the sentence, but he did start a new one to complete his thought. "Depending on what we find on the other side, it might only be the beginning."

It was no answer. Asgore still had not clarified whether or not he had _decided_ the Royal Guard would engage in overworld military efforts. He was thinking about it. That was for certain. But nothing else he said sounded conclusive.

"so –"

The two were interrupted by a jubilant cackle from the kitchen. "NYEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH! ! ! THE SPAGHET'TEA' IS READY!"

Sans and Asgore glanced at one another. There would be no more time to discuss. Hastily, Sans answered, "whatever you want exactly… the answer's no. sorry. i'm not a fighter. assuming you can use that SOUL, i've helped you break through the barrier. that's all i ever wanted to do. best of luck… but i'm best sticking to the sidelines here on out."

* * *

 _[[File 13.4 SA-20080307-#-#]]_

This would be the last time he entered the laboratory. Ever.

Sans bulldozed through the uncomfortable stillness. White walls glowed in an unpleasant, indistinct wash that left him half-blind, and the silence pounded at his skull, but he forced himself to march straight through the strange lack of stimuli and enter his office. The sooner he completed his required task, the sooner he could leave this tomb of unpleasant memories.

He shoved himself into his office. Upon shutting his door, he almost collided into an avalanche of unsorted papers. Stacks rose up to heights greater than he. At once a distinct sickly twinge yanked at his SOUL; a sense of dread overtook him as he examined the messy office space and pondered the work before him. Sans had long since learned how to be efficient working, and would not exert excessive effort to complete a task… but never before had he experienced uneasiness at the thought of starting some project. Work had never intimidated him nor rattled his bones… until now.

The last thing he wished to do was clear this office.

He steeled himself. Leaning forward, Sans plucked a few important files off the floor. All were marked by a distinct alphabet in a handwriting not his own. He tucked those away for safekeeping, as well as several books that were more or less slightly accessible. Those he did value. Those he would keep.

Yet for the rest of the piles…

His phalanges hovered briefly over several of the documents. Eyesockets stared, wistful, at most of them.

But those were of the past, a place to which he was not certain he wanted to return.

He opened a portal.

A gaping black hole, like an open jaw, widened in the corner. Sans grabbed a handful of incomplete paperwork and tossed it into the maw. The other end of the portal would drop the papers into an obscure area of the garbage dumps near Waterfall, in a location that no one ever walked. He would sequester or burn the most confidential documents, but for mere everyday paperwork, the dumps would be enough.

Old printout of the laboratory office calendar, six months outdated. Tossed.

Progress report of his work the year Gaster first hired him. Tossed.

Five copies of the same academic journal, most of them stained in coffee and horrifically wrinkled. Obviously, tossed.

A laboratory report concerning the first successful transportation of particles across a magic channel into a parallel universe, evidence manifested in a double slit experiment containing statistically significantly altered photon readings between the pre and post particle travel measurements.

Sans… paused.

Vision lingered over the name on the top of the page.

 _Rain._

One syllable.

One important syllable.

With a heavy hand, Sans tossed that paper, too.

"Oh, y-you're in here?"

He _thought_ he had shut the door, indeed recalled clicking it shut, yet it stood ajar now. Perhaps some draft from the ventilation system slowly opened it up. As it was, Sans currently stood before a wide open door, with Alphys standing on the other side of the frame, clipboard – and now coffee – in hand.

"just cleaning up," Sans stated.

Alphys struggled to speak. Downcast, she opened her mouth a few times, only to let her lips shut silent. Finally, though, she processed a simple sentence. "It was g-g-good to work with you."

"yeah."

"Everything's ch-changing. I don't like it."

Sans avoided her gaze, but instead picked up another paper. Another report penned by Rain. Tossed.

"I d-don't know everything th-th-that happened, n-not like you, b-b-b-but…"

A third report by Rain, discarded to the depths of Waterfall's dumps.

"I hate it." Despondent bitterness molded over her voice.

Fourth, fifth, sixth reports by Rain. An entire stack. Sans' hands shook as he held them. But he tossed those also.

"i hate it, too," he sighed.

"Don't you wish you c-could, maybe, go back in time?"

Sans froze. Almost a minute passed before he remembered to throw away the next sheet of paper. Another one from Rain. It pained him to feed it to the black hurricanous maw.

Pain.

Tried to reach for another… slowly… but it was not a report… it was a drawing… a pathetic drawing of three stick figures, who slightly resembled scientists, two tall, one short…

Pain.

His hand dropped to his side and he did not throw the scrap of paper away.

When Sans failed to respond to Alphys, she stammered, "I'll, uh… um… l-l-let you b-b-be. … …Yeah. Um. Bye? S-s-sorry…"

She shuffled away.

Sans stared, unfocused, at the pile before him.

And then at once he whirled toward the door and _slammed_ it shut. It would not open this time, ventilation system or no.

No one but him could see this.

No one but him could see the bright glowing magic screen that appeared before him.

No one could see him as his left hand reached forward… and he selected… RESET.

* * *

 _[[File 13.5 GA-20060802-#-#]]_

Doctor Gaster held a quivering, unsolid mess in his arms. Even as he attempted to keep Rain rightened, the remains of his colleague hung heavily, nearly dripping out of his embrace. Shaking and sobbing, trembling and moaning, the scientist contained naught but a vacant, traumatized glaze behind his eyes, and could find no strength or solidity of thought to keep himself upright. He nearly leaked to the floor, sliding backward with a mindless wail.

Desperately, Gaster squeezed tighter, barely holding onto the monster to keep him from falling to the concrete.

Sans crouched on the ground, seeking eye contact with the leaking wreck. Solid sought interaction with liquid. "Rain. Rain. Rain, are you… can you?"

Incoherent babbling, fluid sliding out from Gaster's grasp.

"Rain." Waving his hand before his colleague's face. But Rain stared upward – if something so vapid could be considered a stare.

"It's done. It's over. We turned off the machine. We're not going to try any more time travel. You're… god, are you okay?"

Jolted quaking as response. He slid even further backward, leaky feet merging into a puddle of himself. His fingertips nearly splashed on the floor.

Perhaps Gaster could not hear Sans' words, but he could comprehend the direction of the conversation. The doctor, hands occupied, could not sign back a remark – though the protective glare emanating from his face clearly spoke his thoughts: _of course Rain was not okay._

"Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god," the scientist was whispering on repeat.

"Rain! Rain, please, can you…"

Too exasperated to simply operate as a leaning post, Wings Dings wrenched Rain to his feet, whirled the monster around, grabbed at both his arms for a short moment, and then signed with ferocity. _"You have the rest of the day off, doctor."_

Still a bit traumatized, Rain curled his arms around his torso.

 _"We will not repeat this experiment."_

A glare. _"Do you understand me, doctor?"_

Blank response. No words. No expression on his face.

 _"I demand a response. Do – you – understand – me?"_

Slowly, Rain nodded.

 _"Let me know if I can assist in any form. You are going to be alright."_ Gaster jerked forward, and instead of merely holding Rain up, he pulled the scientist forward into a squeezing hug. For a while it seemed he would never let his colleague go. When Gaster finally released Rain, he peered closely at his colleague behind his glasses and instructed, _"Now go rest."_


	16. 14: Assistance

**14\. Assistance**

 _[[File 14.1 GA-20000307-0-#]]_

"I'm sorry, Sans, I really am. But… I don't if know I can help."

Sans shrugged, hoping the physical gesture would somehow shove off his disappointment. If anything, though, discontent beat down on him further. He could feel his face falling into somber worry, mouth turned downward, eyes downcast, with a slump to his spine shortening his already short height. "don't sweat it, rain. it's fine." He hoped his words did not come across as too dejected.

A squint came from Sans' colleague, a friendly if somewhat jittery individual. Though the two might have been more accurately considered acquaintances rather than companions, having only worked as teammates together in the Royal Laboratory for a few months, Doctor Rain Pearson could already read the skeleton well. Skepticism radiating across the taller monster's face, he trailed, "Are you sure…"

"yeah. i said it's fine."

Rain could read past the poor façade. He could hear the frustration behind Sans' short sentences. Switching to sign, probably in an attempt to protect Sans' privacy, he insisted, _"I would… I would offer to help if I could. You know that, right? It's just that my apartment is made for one person. If I'm going to be honest, it barely even fits one person."_ He rolled his eyes. _"You and Papyrus would barely have room on the floor. That's not fit anybody."_

 _"i get it. so long as_ you _get i'm_ REALLY _desperate right now."_

 _"I know I know I know. I just…"_ Rain groaned and put a hand to his head. With his other free hand, he began chewing on a fingernail in turmoiled consternation. _"Okay… okay..."_ his fingers finally wobbled. _"No promises, okay? Only think of me as a_ maybe _last resort. There's no one else… closer… to you two that…?"_

Sans shook his head.

 _"God. I mean… I'm sorry. Okay. The answer's maybe, if there's no one else. Just… tell me when the eviction is."_ He let out a sigh at the last signed word.

 _"end of the month."_

Rain winced. He did, however, respond with one final, _"Okay."_ The conversation did not inspire assurance and confidence, but it did – at least – provide Sans _something_ in means of future planning. Hell, but he had thought that entering the Royal Laboratories would be a dream come true, the commencement of an exciting chapter in his life… not this rough and rocky journey, his life falling apart around him.

If they hadn't died…

Rain suddenly switched back to English, talking in almost too loud of voice. "I'm looking forward to the weekend, aren't you, Sans? Ah… ah… I think I'd like to take a trip out of New Home, see something in, oh, I don't know… is Waterfall too far a trip? What do you think?"

Sans glanced behind him, noticing a tall and skinny skeleton lingering in the background. How long had Doctor Gaster been watching them? How much of the signed conversation had he caught? Something about the Royal Scientist's expression… he knew.

"sounds like a great trip," Sans answered, casually leaning against the wall, pretending as though he could not feel his supervisor's eyesocket on his back. "life's short. i say ya go for it."

* * *

 _[[File 14.2 GA-20000207-0-#]]_

Incandescent lights flickered on across the cubicles, wavering with the same fatigue and reluctance Sans himself felt. One of the light panels above him sputtered desperately. It was obviously nearing the end of its life. As for Sans, despite the fact he had only woken an hour ago, he could feel his heavy eyelids droop – the result of a poor night's rest. More of a nap than a rest, really.

He slid down into his chair. Drooped his head. Rubbed at his forehead. Moaned. Glanced up at his workspace desk and blinked in surprise.

A cup of coffee – still warm – rested dead center on the surface, along with it a bag of chips that had probably come from the laboratory's vending machine.

Sans glanced around, down the hall. No one was present, but someone had to have…

Oh.

Of course.

The door to Gaster's office was slightly ajar.

* * *

 _[[File 14.3 GA-#####-0-#]]_

 _"Doctor Serif, may I have a moment and speak with you in private?"_

Sans had been standing up along with the rest of the research staff, taking leave of his seat and heading for the doors after their bi-weekly laboratory-wide meeting. As much as the weekend beckoned to Sans, it appeared he would have to forestall it a few minutes. Doctor Gaster had apparently formed other plans.

When the final scientist shuffled out the meeting room, Gaster strode forward and carefully shut the door. He touched the handle with a thoughtful delicacy before turning and looking at Sans with an equally delicate expression.

 _"I apologize for interfering in a conversation for which I was not a part, but I may have accidentally eavesdropped on your conversation with Rain Pearson this morning."_

Sans stood there, shuffling his feet. What could he say in response to that? He had noticed Gaster. He had expected as much. And this was hardly a topic he relished discussing.

 _"Even with the adjustments I made to your schedule, I presume it is still a challenge to handle other affairs outside the workplace?"_

Drowning in debt from student loans, awkwardly juggling bills, trying to find some way to explain to his brother he had lost their parent's house… yes. 'A challenge to handle other affairs outside the workplace.' That was one way to put it.

He shrugged noncommittally, hands defaulting to their secure station in his pockets. It provided an obvious indicator he would not be saying much.

Doctor Gaster looked away. His facial expression did not change, but something significant must have been rotating inside his skull. He signed, _"You need a place to stay."_

Sans still did not pull his hands out of his pocket, but begrudgingly provided a single nod.

 _"As kind as it is for your colleague to offer his floor, I believe I could provide better accommodations."_

Sans had long since learned not to show emotion on his face, but even he gaped when he saw those signs. Doctor Gaster was not actually going to…

 _"At least, so mind as you can handle three children between the ages of eight and sixteen. The eldest can be rather… aggressive… as a forewarning, for all that I love her."_

He _was_. He _was_ going to offer his place to stay.

Sans shook his head hurriedly this time, and even pulled out his hands to enunciate in sign, _"NO."_ He struggled to find the words, challenging both because he had to recall the signs and because the doctor's offer flustered him. He ended up just emphasizing the word "no" several times before he thought of some actual dialogue. _"thank you…_ so much _… but i don't think i could accept that."_ Asking an individual on his science team for help had felt cumbersome enough; receiving offered assistance from the Royal Scientist himself staggered him.

 _"I don't think you have many other options,"_ pointed out the Royal Scientist bluntly. He could sense Sans' deferential hesitance and slapped right past it. _"My position of authority is irrelevant to the status of your situation. Who I am does not change what you need. My willingness to help, on the contrary, is what's pertinent, and could solve your problems if you got past some minor details of social status."_

It was not just that this was _the_ Royal Scientist. Becoming indebted to someone who had already – in his own subtle fashions – provided Sans assistance, that bothered Sans, too. He hated asking for help. He also hated receiving it. Cool, collected, impervious – he preferred to look like someone chill who let worries flutter past him… not someone in desperate need of assistance.

Nevertheless, he knew he needed this, and understood he could not refuse.

A long lapse of silence passed. Then Sans responded, in a discomfited joke, _"careful there, doctor gaster. once i start bumming on you, there's no guarantee you can shove me out the door."_

 _"I highly doubt that."_ And then, to Sans' surprise, the doctor responded back, in a perfectly even expression, _"I am taller than you by a notable margin and likely stronger. I feel like you'd be pretty easy to shove."_ And even as Sans was still trying to determine if that had been a joke, he felt the relief settle in. He had a home.

* * *

 _[[File 14.4 GA-2000227-0-#]]_

Shuffling into the coffee shop. Glancing around. Yes, there he was. There was Doctor Gaster, seated at the same table, the same chair, with the same expression as always. The Royal Scientist stood up from his seat in the corner of the room to approach Sans and greet him. With a nod, Gaster slipped past Sans, stepped up to the counter, and ordered for themselves a cup of green tea and the cheapest, blackest coffee they could brew.

 _"how'd your day go?"_

 _"Is your brother doing well?"_

 _"how's sunny and the kids?"_

 _"settling into the new apartment well?"_

Conversation passing and the drinks slowly draining. A refreshing, relaxing tradition with which to begin the weekend.


	17. 15: Barrier

**15\. Barrier**

 _[[File 15.1 GA-20060803-#-#]]_

Gaster looked fatigued. Deep shadows smudged his sockets beneath his glasses lenses, while his neck drooped from a weight he usually never bore. As alacritous and alert as he pretended to be, Sans noted that Gaster wrote slower than usual – and that the notes he scribbled bore little sense. The research team had rejected those equations several months past; for Gaster to write them down on his sheet indicated extraordinary mental distraction and lethargy. Gaster never made errors like these.

His typical reaction times seemed slowed, too. Several seconds of processing passed before the doctor recognized Sans on the other side of his desk. Blinking once, twice, and then thrice, Gaster processed the visual stimuli before him. He set his pencil down. Then, pretending as though nothing were out of the ordinary, he inquired, _"YOU NEED HELP YOU?"_ with an eyebrow raised at the end to indicate a question. _"Do you need help?"_ But even his signs were unclear… he was mumbling.

 _"i want to talk about yesterday."_

With gravity, Gaster answered, _"Very well then."_ He gently pushed aside his sheet of useless equations, clasped his hands, and awaited Sans' discussion. The motions seemed unperturbed. Maybe even practiced. Likely, he had been waiting all morning for Sans to step in and request this very meeting.

Sans, for his own part, had suffered all night tossing and turning, burdened with discomfiting questions and worries. He had not slept three hours. Maybe not even two. Prepared from many hours of turmoiled thought, Sans launched into a query. He felt relieved to finally ask the question to something other than his troubled mind. _"so that's it?"_

 _"Pardon?"_

 _"is this the end of the road for us?"_

Gaster rubbed an eyesocket, and again asked, _"Pardon?"_ Oh, but he was tired. He was so tired if this was how he was communicating.

 _"after a failed experiment trying to send someone back in time, are we done?"_ Sans flinched as he signed, memories conjuring up the unpleasant image of Rain weeping post-experiment. He suspected his colleague had not returned to the laboratory today, but had remained at home to continue healing the trauma – if something like that _could_ be healed. A part of Sans wished he were home, too, wiping away memories with alcohol. _"you said something in the lab yesterday. it was when we were leaving. something about not repeating the experiment again. so… all those years of research we've done… we're quitting now, aren't we?"_

And yet Gaster responded with a word Sans did not expect. _"No."_ Dulled determination – but determination nonetheless – sparked behind his glasses. It was the first expression of energy he had demonstrated today. _"We're not stopping."_

Sans squinted at his supervisor.

Gaster craned his neck, ever so slightly, but other than that did not respond. He seemed to be thinking. His fingers tapped on the surface of his desk a moment before he stood, glided around Sans, and shut his office door.

At last, Gaster raised his hands to explain. _"So many other avenues have failed,"_ he said. He trod around Sans and back toward his desk chair. As he did, he continued signing. There was a certain labor to each sign he gave. _"My other attempts to break the barrier have been proven impossible. The blasters are worthless. The human magic injections are pointless. I might be terminating another project ongoing in the CORE. This is the one – the one and only – possibility I have left. I_ cannot _cancel the project."_

 _"then…"_ Sans attempted to process what this meant. He scratched the top of his skull before inquiring, _"what did you mean back there? in the lab? you said we wouldn't repeat what happened. but if we continue the research, we're going to_ have _to try to send someone back again, which means…"_

Gaster raised his hands above Sans and butted into the commentary. _"Which means that I take the risk."_

Sans blinked. _"what?"_

 _"I take the risk."_

Fatigue no longer loitered beneath Gaster's eyesockets. Bags still weightily hung under his lenses; neck still hunched in weight; yet a powerful determination fueled him with energy.

He signed again: _"I take the risk. I promised Rain the same experiment would not happen again. I hold by that promise. I will be the test subject next time, once we have modified the equipment and verified its safety."_

 _"wow."_ It was all Sans could think to say at the moment. Something sounded strange about Gaster's resolution. At first, Sans could not pinpoint it, but at last, after a little thought, he identified it.

 _"so you're changing your mind,"_ he said.

 _"What now?"_

 _"i thought you were worried about using the core in the first place. right? you said we couldn't risk endangering anyone. if the experiment got dangerous, we'd call it a bust."_

Sans' observation failed to unnerve Gaster. The even-faced scientist simply waved a hand. _"Yes, you remember correctly. Please, rest assured, I would not proceed with this research if I did not think it could be implemented safely still. Given as we are in a circumstance with increasingly limited options, I will allow this project to continue. Yes, under normal proceedings, I would have said that yesterday's event would be cause to cancel the project. More than cause. However. The more I reflect on our situation in the underground, the more I realize how we are not in normal circumstances. Understand I have no intention of giving up, so if there is a chance this project can lead to the freedom of every monster in the underground, then I am fine testing this a little further. We deserve to be freed._

 _"At the same time, I also have no intention of putting anyone in harm's way again. What happened with Rain should never have been. The goal of my experimentation is not to bring harm, but to bring the opposite. Peace. Freedom. Happiness. This means I will not risk Rain's safety and I will not risk yours. I could especially not live with myself if either of you two were harmed. If we do another trial – and we will – I refuse to let anyone be the test subject… except myself."_

Gaster's protective words, though allaying some of Sans' confusion, did not assuage his worries. He felt a heavy weight sink into his belly. Memories supplied images of Rain coiling with fear. Yesterday afternoon had been terrible enough. Now his imagination visualized Gaster kneeling and shaking. Sans shook his head. _"the last life we need to risk is the royal scientist's."_

Sans was surprised Gaster did not slam his hands down on the desk the second Sans completed his thought. The Royal Scientist looked adamant enough. In a sudden aggressive spurt, he signed, _"It is the only procedure I will allow."_ His strong motions allowed no room for arguments. _"It is a simple matter of conscience. You and Rain have dedicated countless hours to the research, which I acknowledge could not have progressed without both of your expertise, but I head the project. It is my responsibility, and I must be the one to face the consequences. I alone. Me. I loathe myself even now that I let Rain enter the last test."_

 _"you didn't know it would fail,"_ Sans insisted, hoping the encouragement helped.

It did not. _"I did not know it would succeed, either."_

 _"true, but we tested everything thoroughly beforehand. preliminary tests passed all your safety measures. it should have been safe."_

 _"And yet it was not."_ Gaster would not relent on this matter. He had checked his aggression, and now displayed his typical, externally passive state, but his words remained firm. He emphasized, _"This incident rests on my conscience, Sans. You understand I have dedicated my entire life to trying to revolutionize the lives of monsters, to the best of my abilities. I have wanted nothing more than to break the barrier. To help all of us. I will do it. I will save people, not put friends in danger."_

He could see the pain within Gaster's eyesockets. Something else – guilt. Not only Rain had been haunted by yesterday's failure.

There was no choice but to nod. He understood. _"okay,"_ Sans responded. _"i get it."_ Then, as an afterthought, he added, _"…thanks, doc. it's good to know you care."_

 _"You of all people should already know I care,"_ dismissed Gaster as he attempted to brush off the compliment. His nod, though, indicated a more touching sentiment.

 _"i know. you just don't say it upfront all the time._

 _"heh. i guess like me."_

Gaster's face remained stoic. Mostly.

Sans continued, _"that said, it's obvious you care a lot. far more than most guys i know. the underground, the monsters, rain… me. you're always watching out for everyone. there's a reason the science team follows you so readily._

 _"just… know when you need to stop, okay?"_

Gaster asked, _"Are you suggesting that I am proceeding too far?"_ He was not offended. Not that Sans could outwardly tell, anyway.

 _"i didn't say that. but if this gets any more dangerous… can you give me your word you won't do something risky?"_

 _"Sans."_ Gaster shook his head. _"You should know me well enough by now._ [KS2] _I have always proceeded through my research with careful attention to detail."_

 _"ok then."_ Sans' questions had been answered. He understood where they would be heading research-wise, how they would proceed, how they would handle Rain's incident. One final comment, though, needed to be said.

 _"got to admit, though… i'm not so sure what you're doing is wise."_

Gaster's head cocked to the right by a fraction of an inch.

 _"Wise or not wise, it is necessary."_

* * *

 _[[File 15.2 SA-20150710-#-#]]_

Monsters. Monsters everywhere. Swarming, swarming like ants, all amassing to head one direction, churning together for a singular common destination. They jostled and crashed into one another like agitated waves of the sea. Not as though Sans had ever seen the sea – not beyond movies discarded from the human world – yet he could not imagine it being any fiercer than this. Not even open ocean waves in a storm could compete with this hoard of crowding, surging, colliding, teeming, flooding, amassing monsters.

Hips and shoulders bumped into him. Stray elbows knocked him into another monster's back. Sans could hardly control his steps; each one was forced upon him, driven by necessity, as the crowd forced itself around him. Agitated currents streamed forward, full of monsters rushing to the front of the throng. Sans needed not compete with them. He kept his goals simple: stay upright, keep Papyrus in sight.

His brother's tall stature at least allowed him to be a reasonable landmark. Granted, with all the flailing hands, Sans often lost sight of his brother – no mind they clambered through this crowd together. They had _meant_ to stay side-by-side, at least. At the moment, though, Sans counted no fewer than three struggling bodies shoving themselves between his brother and him. Sans shoved back. But with his short height and pitiful strength, that action helped nothing.

"SANS! SANS, OVER HERE!" The voice of Papyrus screeching above a wildly-screeching crowd. How could this many monsters pack themselves in such cramped quarters? Usually only the king, his attendees, and the Royal Guard stepped through this hallway – not the entire populace of the underground. Sans could barely hear his loud-mouthed brother. He doubted his brother would be able to hear him. Yet he shouted back anyways – "COMING, PAPYRUS!" Right. As if he _could_ choose to return to his brother's side.

Fifteen monsters shifting at once suddenly shoved him into Papyrus' ribcage, though. He found no time to celebrate his success. Sans felt the throng's fluxes pulling them apart again – with a stubborn elbow, he fought to remain beside Papyrus.

How close were they to the Throne Room? How much further did they have to swim through crowded hallways? Where even _were_ the hallways? He could not spot the stone walls on either side to him – only limbs and torsos clambering through.

It might have been better for him to sleep in and miss this speech, he thought to himself, for the infinite time. Waking with a hangover headache. Shivering in the early morning cold on their journey. Flinching at the assault of unwelcome noise. And now this – fighting to breathe, fighting to stand, fighting to exist, in a mosh pit of clambering monster SOULs.

He gasped in relief when they burst into a wider chamber. Feet trampled over flowers. Sans simply rushed to the nearest open space – thankfully, the same direction Papyrus chose to charge. The brothers reunited and looked over the crowd. Rabbits, spiders, planes, lizards, ghosts, dogs, cats, crocodiles, even other skeletons, all of them joined together with excited calls.

Asgore stood on a hastily-constructed podium at the far front of the room. He appeared as little more than a smudge of white and purple from where Sans stood. Yet he could see the king. Presumably, he would be able to hear Asgore, too, once he quieted the populace down and began his speech.

Yet more monsters continued to pour into the throne room, filling it beyond its maximum capacity. Sans imagined many underground citizens of the underground stood outside the doors, too, waiting and hoping that they could catch some words from the speech.

Asgore lingered at the far end of the stage for a long while. Slowly, though, he trundled forward, received a microphone from one of the members of the Royal Guard, and waved at the crowd. He leaned in to speak to the miniscule microphone. Not a word was heard. Tried again. This time, hushes filled the air, monsters turned to one another in frustration, and hushed the entire room. When at last everyone silenced themselves and their neighbors, Asgore found sound waves to speak, and on his third attempt, Sans could hear the king's voice.

"Howdy!"

"Howdy!" exclaimed the entire monster population in response. Sans did not know which sounded worse – the distorted rumbles of Asgore's voice booming into the microphone, or the unrestrained screeches of three thousand excited monsters. The sounds smashed together anyway into one unwholesome sonic assault.

The screams died away after a long, rowdy raucous. Then he could hear a low chuckle coming from the microphone. Sans could not see Asgore smiling from that far away, yet he doubted Asgore wore anything but his broadest, most friendly grin. He did not speak from a desire to receive attention and applause, but from sincere emotions. He sounded a little choked up.

"I am amazed to see so many people here! Who knew the Throne Room could hold so many people at once?

"We're all here today for a special reason, aren't we?"

Thunderous roars.

"I can't believe it finally happened. We have seven SOULs. With these seven SOULs, we can break the barrier and return to the surface!"

More shouts – somehow, even louder than the cacophony before.

"It's… going to be amazing," said Asgore. He appeared to be rambling rather than providing a memorable speech, yet the audience consumed every word. All eyes followed Asgore as their king began pacing the stage. Deep velvet robes rolled across the stage floor. "On the other side of the barrier, we will finally see the sun. We'll see sunsets and moon rises and oceans and stars and clouds and sky. There will be limitless places to explore. No fear of starvation or crowding. Every one of us will start over to a new, better life."

Though Asgore paused again, no one spoke now. They were all entranced, imagining a life on the surface… a life on this paradise… this promised land. Sans glanced over at his brother, who was cuddling his scarf and beaming brightly.

"The humans have a hold on us no longer.

"Today, all our hopes, wishes, and dreams come true."

Was that… was that _excitement_ bubbling inside Sans? After he had thought such emotions were gone?

"I suppose I should tell you how this will proceed." Asgore halted his own speech with an embarrassed chuckle.

"Well, it should be pretty straightforward.

"The journey to the surface begins with me breaking the barrier. That'll happen very soon.

"The Royal Guard comes through next. They will quickly check the state of the surface. Just in case, you know. Um." An awkward cough.

Sans frowned, recalling his earlier conversation with Asgore, in which the king's concerns about the surface had seemed more paramount, and the possibility of human retaliation more likely. Yet whether or not Asgore felt nervous now, Sans could not tell. After one cumbersome cough, Asgore cleared his throat, continued, and proceeded onward. Only the most astute personalities, paying close heed to vocal cues and body language, would have detected something "off" about the moment.

"When the necessary preliminary check is done – and really, I can't see it taking all that long – everyone is free to pass through the barrier.

"By the end of today, everyone will be out of the underground." Optimism. Pride. Exuberance. Expectation. "The surface world is here before us. We'll all watch the sunset together tonight!"

Enormous cheers.

* * *

 _[[File 15.3 GA-20060810-#-#]]_

One mere week later, Sans caught Rain lingering inside the doorway of Gaster's office. The tall, slender monster leaned against the nearest wall, opposite the window, in a posture that poorly faked insouciance. Sans could spy his coworker's hands jitter as the scientist picked his fingernails. There might also have been a tremble beneath the "Tra la la"s he hummed. Sans stared at his coworker for a while, curiosity but also concern ebbing through his mind; his friend looked very ill today, pale of face, and more skittish than custom. Sans had hoped that Rain, after a full week free of laboratory research, would have entered the office in better condition. But apparently not.

Rain dropped his poorly portrayed nonchalance the second Sans slipped into Gaster's office, skeleton entering as the third and final researcher for the meeting. Rain hopped forward, twirling toward Gaster's desk, at the same time the Royal Scientist greeted Sans. _"It appears we may begin,"_ Doctor Gaster announced, task-oriented as custom. _"I look forward to any insights taken from last week's… unanticipatedly rough trial."_ Gaster glanced at Rain. Concern reflected in his glasses frames.

 _"Don't look at me,"_ said Rain, words hard to comprehend because his hands shook. _"I've got nothing."_

 _"Sans?"_

 _"look here."_ Sans had entered the office with full hands, and now found the opportunity to splay his carted contents all over Gaster's desk. The once-pristine surface became buried underneath a wide assortment of laboratory reports. Thankfully, the most relevant document landed at the top, and Sans used a finger bone to slide it toward Gaster. _"experiment one zero four."_

No one conversed as Gaster held the document in both hands, held it upright, and scrutinized it. He paused to fidget with his glasses several times before placing the laboratory report back on the desk, where it blended in with all the other typed-up papers.

 _"One hundred four? Isn't that the one we vlogged but it didn't work?"_

 _"yes, that one."_

 _"I believe I understand why you are studying this case,"_ Gaster mused. He made no eye contact with either of the monsters, eyesockets remaining fixated on lines of neatly printed letters.

 _"it's just like last week. same sort of failure when you think about it."_

Words began butting on top one another. _"But that was just a power insufficiency,"_ Rain pointed out, while Gaster, at the same time, declared an entirely contrary view: _"_ Precisely _the same sort of failure."_

 _"But it_ can't _be."_ Rain again. _"We fixed that problem."_

 _"BUT TRUE NO NOT ALWAYS NO."_ Sans ended his comment with his pointer finger upward, spinning in a circle. _"that's not necessarily the truth."_

 _"Unless things have changed drastically in the last seven days, our machine is efficiently hooked up to the CORE and using as much power as we safely can. I tweaked the machine myself. There's nothing more powerful in the entire underground apart from the CORE itself."_

Gaster gestured toward Sans before requesting, _"care to explain, sans?"_

 _"no problem."_

He pulled out more paper – this time, not a mere sheet, but a hefty stack. A title page draped over the rest of the pristine white sheets. "Instantaneous Macroscopic Quantum Teleportation of Volitional Sapient Subjects via Magical Channels." Beneath it, the name of the underground's one and only college; beneath that, a name; and beneath that, a year.

 _"glad to know my dissertation can be used for something more than knocking people out."_ He was the only one who grinned at the joke, though.

Hurrying on, Sans explained, _as you all know, my research, and i guess my 'big contribution to physics', was figuring out teleportation of living beings by controlling quantum entanglement through magic. transferring information of all the cells in my body requires a channel. now the channel_ could _be physical, and early human quantum teleportation experiments relied upon optical fibres to transfer information-carrying photons across wide distances to create two entangled photons separated across long distances. but a physical channel is impractical, of course. it's… very limited. the alternate is a magical channel generated within the SOUL by a sapient subject like you or me. actually, a magic channel is the only way to_ successfully _teleport a living person. because, otherwise… one mistake and you could teleport with some of the atoms in your brain out of whack. that's no good. magic's the one and only way to reliably_ control _the trillions of molecules inside your body and handle your SOUL and consciousness._

 _"a lot of our time travel research, of course, diverges from this. we need to worry about density matrices of a quantum system, closed timeline curves, and a hell of a lot of other fun stuff. but the challenge of moving a sapient subject is still relevant. you were complaining that we have more power than we've ever had before, but you're just talking about the conversion of geothermal energy into electricity. it's magical electricity, sure, but it's not the same thing as pure monster SOUL magic. in order to send someone back in time, we don't just need energy from the CORE. it works for nonliving matter just fine, but not for things with brains and a sense of agency. monsters also have a SOUL and that needs to be transported back in time, too. so we need more than CORE energy. we need SOUL energy, too."_

Rain frowned, but nodded in comprehension. He understood Sans' explanation, but apparently needed some time to reflect upon it.

Gaster, having already understood Sans' point before the explanation, hopped right into the dialogue. _"Despite examining Sans' dissertation thesis and pulling out applicable equations and theory for our own work, we failed to sufficiently incorporate SOUL energy into last week's experimentation. Given as our previous experiment materials, which_ have _been successfully transported back in time by all corroboration of data, lacked volition and required no SOUL component to be transported, we failed to notice the problem of transporting Rain. What almost happened in the laboratory was pulling Rain's SOUL apart from his substance, sending the particles back in time but not his personal essence."_

Rain shuddered visibly, rattling the walls behind him in the process. Sans could feel his bones chill, too, at the horrid concept. A SOUL pulled from its molecules. What a gruesome way to fall down. Had he not raced to the machine and cut the power so quickly, then they very well would have killed Rain in the experiment.

 _"So all we need is to tap into our SOUL with magic, and the experiment will work?"_ The quaver in Rain's voice suggested he loathed to try.

Sans, for his own part, found himself nodding, thinking to himself, _that bold trick might have been how i figured out teleportation, but after last week's dangerous episode, i don't think it's a good idea for us to jump into time travel like this. it's too big a risk._ Consequently, while Rain's statement was probably correct, Sans only responded with an irresolute sign. _"MAYBE."_

 _"To ensure success, I suggest we implement a SOUL magic amplifying device,"_ said Gaster. _"Thankfully, I have, in an entirely separate project, developed a means to amplify monster SOUL magic. The blasters' purpose has been to augment monster capabilities during encounters and provide them greater strength from magical and physical attacks, but the technology can easily be manipulated and applied to our experimentation here._

Sans and Rain glanced at one another. This procedure would still involve Gaster entering a setting that could tear his SOUL from his body, but the magnification of his own SOUL powers _would_ be the method to gain the most SOUL power. If any possibility existed for a living subject to transport, this would be the mechanism.

 _this will be as safe as we're ever going to get._

 _"i guess that's what we do, then,"_ said Sans at last.

He could only hope the process would not transform Gaster into a pile of dust.

* * *

 _[[File 15.4 SA-20150710-#-#]]_

The crowd would not quiet. They chanted two syllables repeatedly: "AS-GORE! AS-GORE! AS-GORE! AS-GORE!"

Sans doubted ASGORE appreciated the spectacle. As far off as Sans stood, he could still detect something… cumbersome… something… hesitant… about the king's body language. His Majesty stared out toward the crowd, head slowly panning from right to left. Most individuals might have interpreted the gesture as the monarch gazing over all his cheering subjects. Yet something about the motions suggested Asgore were searching for a particular monster, a particular face, in the crowd, with no successful recognition. A short jerk of the head to do a double take. A continuing pan when the second glance brought null results.

And still the crowd persisted, persisted, persisted in their chant. "AS-GORE! AS-GORE! AS-GORE!"

At times Sans heard a few other chattering voices, loudly shouted out to be heard. To his left, a Moldsmal exclaiming, "It's happening! It's happening! It's happening now, oh my god! ! ! King Asgore is going to free us!" Beside it, another monster expounding, "King Asgore is saving us all!"

For there on the stage, Asgore had brought up seven vats. Each one glowed with a marvelous light.

It was time for him to absorb the seven human SOULs.

It was time for ASGORE to become a god.

* * *

 _[[File 15.5 GA-2006###-#-#]]_

The room erupted in light.

Cutting spotlights, launching from a focal point, shot stabbing beams to every corner of the room. Eyes screamed at the overload. An impossible, burning sun-like source leaked furious fire in uncontrollable volumes. Shards and shafts attacked. Bright blues, brighter blues, yet brighter blues, brighter, brighter, brighter, ever-brightening, ever-burning… they shot from center outward like a supernova.

Nothing could escape it. Not shutting the eyes. Not burying face in arm. The light burrowed through anything, tore through any material – photons, photons, photons – everywhere, lasers of photons.

In the overwhelming overstimulus of sight, Sans could perceive no other senses. Where was he? What was he doing? Was he screaming? Shouting? No one knew. But if there were any time to scream, it would be now.

Thrown far from the source of light, Sans and Rain cowered on their knees, helpless. In the center of it all glowed Gaster, Gaster, radiating like a star. Magic exploded from him. Magic, generated from his SOUL. From his amplifiers, the modified blasters circling around him. He glowed in light, not a shard of darkness about him, not a shadow, not a hint, only blinding light.

Sans' eyesockets burned as he forced them open. Through a pained, shaking squint he sought to find Gaster. Was that faint outline the Royal Scientist? He stumbled toward it, blindly, grasping at the dirtied concrete floor in desperation. He needed to crawl to the machine. Turn it off. Turn it off. Turn it off.

In all this confusion, a thought, burgeoning into clarity: _Gaster's dying._

Moaning, moving forward.

And then, through it all, he felt something. A hand on him. Gaster's hand.

A hand pushing Sans away from the machine.

 _No._

He fought around it. Skeleton fingers desperately clawed at him as Sans shut his eyes shut and launched toward the machine, so adamant to end the lightshow he could care less about the equipment's survival. He threw forward a hand even as something wrenched him by the leg. Palm smacked on the surface of something. Buttons. Buttons beneath his palm. He pressed down, hoping one of the mechanisms would halt the machine's deadly programming.

And Gaster yanked him backwards… and he fell backwards, landing hard on his pelvis… and he could heard the roar of the machine… die… and the lights… the exploding magic lights… fade.

He could see nothing. Even in the regular lights of the CORE basement, it felt like pitch blackness. After such a fantastic and unreal display of glowing magic, he could have been floating in the center of darkened nothingness.

For the next five minutes, all Sans could sense was his own breathing.

He barely dared to ask himself one question.

 _…did i make it in time?_

* * *

 _[[File 15.6 SA-20150710-#-#]]_

The hall erupted in light.

He would not be able to describe it later. He could hardly comprehend it now. One moment, Asgore stood, a tall, mighty, impressive Boss Monster. The next, seven SOULs erupted.

ASGORE grew like a colossal cloud through the room.

He was everywhere and nowhere, he was everything and nothing.

This was what the humans feared… and Sans could comprehend why.

Screams rose through the Throne Room, though it was hard to say if it was shock at the king's impossible form, or thrilled excitement over their victory. But above the roar of the crowd rose another roar, the booming voice of ASGORE, as suddenly he lifted up a massive scarlet trident.

Magic.

Magic everywhere.

Rushing like a cloud.

An impossible rush of human and monster magic in one.

He could hear the barrier shattering, lights snapping in and out. That was the barrier, wasn't it?

Everything… growing brighter…

* * *

 _[[File 15.7 GA-2006####-#-#]]_ [KS3]

Light faded.

 _...did i make it in time?_

Vision slowly returned.

Crouched on the floor, head bowed, spine slumped, trembled Gaster. Beneath the Royal Scientist's lab coat, Sans could spy the fabric tighten and loosen, coordinated with Gaster's heavy, overexerted exhales. He moved not except for that. Perhaps could not move except for that. Magic still glowed about the Royal Scientist, yet only in a muted glimmer, and none of the magic amplifiers around him were lit. Both of his eyesockets were sparking with blue phantom eyes – a sign of magic pressed too far.

Gaster raised a fist. In one sudden fit of anger, he slammed it to the ground.

Sans held his breath. Rain, still lingering further behind, held a hand over his mouth.

Turning his head upward and to the left, making eyesocket contact with Sans, Gaster signed, _"Why did you stop?"_ The motions of his hands were angry jabs; his finger pointing toward Sans might as well have shot a spear. The phantom eye were still sparking, strobing between bright yellows and blues, and punctuating his motions with its own flashing aggression. His teeth were clenched.

Sans, flabbergasted, could not respond. He could distantly feel the machine beneath his palms still, but he did not register. He could only stare at the shaking Royal Scientist in shock.

 _"Why did you stop?"_ Gaster demanded again. _"I was handling it fine."_

The stress of the last two experiments crashed down upon Sans. He could feel his own magic ignite and something burn through his chest and eyesockets. Shock shifted into fear-laced anger. _"hell if you were! dammit, gaster, you were about to pull your SOUL apart! and you had just promised –_ just _promised – not to take worthless risks!"_

Instead of responding, Gaster glanced down at his lab coat, brushed it off, and stood. He proceeded to brush himself off a second time, this round more thoroughly, leaning down to pick off individual particles of dust from his pant legs. As he bent down, Sans could see flashes from Gaster's eyes upon the ground – at least at first, though over time, as the scientist cooled off – the flashes became less intermittent. When at last he rightened himself up, Gaster signed, face cool if now outright cold, two simple utterances. _"The risk was not worthless. I succeeded."_

Remnants of blue magic flickered around the Royal Scientist.

 _"I think."_

Again, no response from the other two scientists.

Striding forward, Gaster approached the machine. Sans could not spy the Royal Scientist's expression, for he turned his back toward Sans, yet the manner in which Gaster ran his left hand over the buttons indicated he was checking for damage. No one could converse so long as Gaster remained turned around, so Sans and Rain did nothing beyond exchange one glance. Rain for the most part seemed to be struggling through the same turmoil of emotions Sans felt – impatience, worry, astonishment, confusion. Trauma also lingered at the edge of his irises.

Sans thought with sympathy, _he probably saw flashbacks._

Equipment inspection proceeded slowly. Sans could hear buttons clicking as Gaster tested several functions, before at last the muted mutter of running mechanisms faded and the machine was shut off.

 _"The machine is undamaged,"_ Gaster said at last. Lingering frustration stiffened his fingers. _"And so am I."_ Definitely a passive aggressive remark. _"Had the experiment not been terminated prematurely, I would have been able to definitively tell you whether or not I jumped back in time. As it was, I am uncertain, though I may have noticed my watch skip back five seconds."_

 _"Oh my god."_ Rain gasped aloud, too.

More skeptical than Rain, and less reserved about hiding his anger than Gaster, Sans challenged, _"and how did you see that, doc? gotta say those lights were pretty bright."_

A terse response provided no answers. _"That is enough."_

 _"Sans, aren't you missing the point?"_ Rain exclaimed, flapping his hands. Though something haunted still circled his eyes, he also bubbled with current hope. _"We could have some exciting new data in our measurements. Gaster just said he might have actually_ time traveled _! We might have done it!"_

 _"yeah, that's just it, rain. 'might have.' i'm not missing the point. you are. how do you not get this after what happened last week?"_ A cold thing to say, and instantly regretted, but he could not take it back now. Sans pushed onward bitingly. _"we use the most powerful magic and the most powerful energy in all of monster history, and it gets us – what? – where? a very big 'might have'. a 'might have' which almost lost us a life. a 'might have' that can't get any better than a 'might have.' a 'might have' that can barely get us_ maybe _five seconds back in time. a 'might have' that is absolutely, dead-on_ impossible _to get us back five hundred years!"_

 _"I said,"_ said Gaster, _"that is_ enough _."_

 _"what you did was enough."_ Nonplussed, Sans bowled over Gaster's second warning. After all Gaster had done for him over the years, after all Gaster had done to ensure he and Rain and all the other scientists were safe, after everything… he made such a dangerous mistake as _this_? He could have died! The Royal Scientist's risk could not be excused. Could. not. be. excused. Did Gaster think of how much people cared about him? How important his own life was? That stupid stubborn face. That stupid stubborn passive face. _"hell. you're angry i stopped the machine? how about you turn it on again and kill yourself? because that's what would have happened. maybe how about, you, i don't know,_ not _do that?"_

 _"That. is. enough."_

 _"fine."_ Sans threw up his hands. He could not tolerate this. He would not tolerate this. He had almost lost a friend today, an idiot who still refused to believe this experiment had been an unnecessary and terrifying risk. Black shoes stomping, Sans began to march out of the room, but before he completely left, turned around to sign one last statement. _"i'm done today. i'm done."_

* * *

 _[[File 15.8 SA-20150710-#-#]]_

Light faded.

It was finished.

He needed no microphone. He raised up his head with a shout. ASGORE proclaimed, "The barrier is destroyed!"

* * *

 _[[File 15.9 GA-2006####-#-#]]_

Into a darkened room he sneaked, flashlight dancing over colloidal clouds of rising dust, skipping past slabs of concrete. He would apologize to Gaster for his outburst later, but before the work day began, he needed to investigate the equipment's readings. Just a few simple numbers, that's all he needed.

Now that anger had fled him, curiosity consumed him. Regardless of how questionable the trial had been… he needed to know its results.

A quiet click preceded the hum of power. Sans watched the machine come to life. Fingers hovered, shaking, over a key. _just press it,_ he told himself, and he did.

He sucked in his breath as his eyes poured over the data. _holy shit…_

Success.

He was staring at confirmed time travel.


	18. 16: Return

**16\. Return**

 _[[File 16.1 IH-20150701-#-# MW #]]_

Snow crunched softly but crisply beneath his feet. Below the weak soles of his slippers he could feel the snow's freezing wet, and more than his preferred share of ice slipping in at the heel. As he shuffled forward, attempting his best to step on the indented footprints of those who had walked before him, he could feel the ice sliding from his heel to his metatarsals and phalanges. The cold burned. Briefly he considered stopping to let out the ice, but knew the slippers would fill again just a minute later. Sixty seconds of snow-less slipper would not be worth the effort of dumping it. He continued shuffling forward one damp slipper at a time.

Typically Sans loathed walking places – he was finding that teleportation, even with its magical requirements, required far less effort – but today he forced himself to travel by foot. Perhaps it would not matter. Perhaps he could dally, enjoy a few moments at Grillby's, prank Doggo in the woods, and return home for a snack of popato chisps, before attending to his station. Perhaps he would neither miss nor alter the moment which critically needed him. Perhaps this would reap the wholesome result he desired. But he dared not risk it. Some sort of… prophetic déjà vu… tugged inside his SOUL… and dictated he walk to work today.

He could not quite describe the uneasy sense inside his SOUL – that feeling he was stepping into something familiar, that the world recycled his experiences and he relived them on and on. But because Sans could feel some predictive sense stirring inside him, he decided to pay it heed. Ancient research had proven to him the existence of infinite parallel timelines. An old, never-forgotten personal past reminded him those many worlds remained weakly coupled, contingently attached, just beyond the bounds of everyday perception. If he sensed déjà vu, that very well could indicate someone had jumped back to the past. Sans had begun to doubt this was the first time he had experienced July 1, 2015.

If he concentrated, truly concentrated, he could almost _remember_ it. Another existence, another timeline, another Sans, another Snowdin Forest. His senses warned him of something important up ahead. And if situations proceeded as he suspected they had in previous experiences, then everything would be changing soon, changing in largely unknown though hopefully positive directions.

Past a small, frozen pond he wandered; past a little garden of round snow poffs; past dog kennels and a few stations manned by bored canines; past infinite trees and a steady snowbank; and the more he wandered, the fewer footprints left indents in the snow. By the time the pine trees transitioned to tall, leafless oaks, Sans was trekking through untouched terrain.

The indistinct marks of his soggy slippers led way to a small, pointy-topped booth. Behind the stall's counter would be a well-worn chair and countless empty condiment bottles. Perhaps, if he were lucky, a few still held some tasty squirts of ketchup. He could not check now. He could not check later. He felt the inclination to continue wandering the woods. He trekked past the station and entered the trees. It felt strangely right to do so.

He could almost sense the future approaching – whatever that future so happened to be.

He veered off-road and weaved between trunks, heading in the general direction of the Ruins. Halfway through the trek, Sans caught motion out of the corner of his eyesocket – something shifting through the trees. Yes. That seemed familiar, too. He could almost recognize the small, squat individual who wandered down the path, heading away from Sans and toward the sentry station he had left unattended.

A human.

 _just as i thought._

Competing and contradictory thoughts tussled inside his SOUL – fear, hope, uncertainty, dread. Sans simultaneously felt inclined to near the human and dash as far away from them as he possibly could. If there truly had been some sort of timeline reset, what experience could have caused him such a stark split reaction?

He knew he needed to near them. As much as his instincts suggested he flee, Sans understood he could not. Not with the tug of his déjà vu. Not with the duties assigned to him as a sentry of Snowdin Forest. Not with the other occupation he currently held and truly cared about. All three obligations propelled him forward, tugged him toward the human, pushed him away from the cover of trees and into the open road.

The human paused. Turned. And flinched.

Was that… recognition in their eyes?

 _that'd make sense. humans have stronger time travel abilities, and with all the residual magic from the mages who formed the barrier, this child could accidentally blink and go back in time._

Pretending as though he, too, recognized the human – and that was not truly false, even if not truly true – Sans pulled his left hand out of his pocket, waved, and greeted nonchalantly, "heya, kid. how's it hangin'?"

The human's face paled, whitening until its shade matched the snow. Fingers fumbled awkwardly with the edge of their shirt as they tried to tug it down further over their pants. They spoke, though the speech came out at such a nervous stutter, Sans could barely comprehend their words, much less follow along with their child logic. "I – I did it, I did what you said to do, I did all of it I really really did I wouldn't lie to you about it. But nothing makes sense because the flower wasn't there but now it is – other things happened and now – now – now things are worse!"

Out of the semantic gibberish, Sans could parse three main vague facts. First, the human apparently _had_ traveled back in time, just as he expected. No other explanation could account for how the child recognized him and immediately began babbling as though they were acquainted. _so i got that right._ Second, the human's current experiences failed to align with what they expected. And third, the child had encountered a flower. A flower so important they mentioned it aloud to Sans in the midst of their babbling.

 _it better not be_ that _flower._

He knew it was.

Hovering his hands above his body and repeatedly pushing down the air, as though that downward motion might calm the human, he said, "hey hey there, kiddo. information overload. or, heh, more like underload. don't understand one sentence you're sayin'. can you back up and tell me what's goin' on?"

The kid's disposition changed. Perhaps it changed several times, switching between moods like fear and worry and uncertainty, before slamming down to an indignant and stubborn mood. With their right foot the child stomped down. The stomp made little impact, simply squishing in the snow, but the temperamental gesture could be understood readily enough. With a half-feisty, half-shaking voice, the human declared, "No."

"you were talking to me five seconds ago about it," Sans pointed out in a voice that hopefully sounded sing-songy, rather than grating out the frustration he was beginning to feel. _i need to know about that flower. what did they want with the human?_

"No," said the human again. They raised their voice in tone and volume.

But their lip quivered, and their eyes were too wide to be actual child unwillingness.

This was no true rebellion. Sans knew tantrums, after all. He would recognize one from his experiences in ancient days, back when Papyrus was a small boy and had not yet overgrown his brother – a tiny skeleton, in the house, stomping down repeatedly on the wood floor with both feet. Sometimes Papyrus had even lain down on the floor so he could smash his fists against the ground, too. But this child before Sans now only feigned tenacity. Fear leaked out from their pupils.

What had happened in the last parallel universe the human had experience? What events had befallen this present world?

As much as Sans wished to know, he understood he could not pester the human for answers. Prying information out of Papyrus, when he had been younger, never worked. It would not work with this human either. Sans, with an outwardly unconcerned shrug, responded, "heh heh heh . alright then. but if you ever wanna talk, you can. i would say i'm all ears, but… skeletons don't have any ears. concept still applies, though."

"The nice old lady's okay," the child snapped hurriedly, and then began rushing forward, dashing through the snow in an attempt to escape their conversant. The mad dash threw a lot of powder. They did not run quickly through the deep snow, but Sans did not stop them.

He only stared as they fled. A frown formed on his face.

 _wait a second…_

A distant memory tickled the back of his mind.

 _did the child reset because they_ killed _her?_

Something… something wasn't right. It wasn't right at all.

He glanced toward the Ruins door. Head swiveled. Glanced in the direction the human was charging. Thoughts whirled.

With one more worried stare toward the Ruins, he headed after the now-distant, still-charging human. He needed to learn more answers from a knowledgeable source before knocking on the door.

For the moment, he would only have to hope that his friend on the other side of the Ruins survived.

 _something…_ something _isn't right._

* * *

 _[[File 16.2 GA]]_

Wings Dings Gaster hobbled through the hallway, clearly fatigued, weariness not quite etched on his face so much as deeply engraved. Exhaustion had become an everyday duty in the CORE Royal Laboratories, and Sans himself felt lethargy drag down his bones. When last had he seen his brother, beyond a mere glimpse? How long since the two had spoken? Yet Gaster suffered far greater lassitude than either Sans or Rain, not only researching the impossible with these two colleagues, but heading other investigations, supervising other teams, developing other projects, pressing for more scientific advancements. Sans suffered little sleep at present; he could not imagine Gaster's worse state of fatigue.

Yet despite their physical and mental exhaustion, Sans could feel energy sparking like lightning between the three today. Rain danced up ahead, jittering at twice his normal pulse, humming an octave above typical; Sans' pace quickened after Rain, and he could feel the laughter vibrating his throat as he cracked out jokes; and even Gaster's eyesockets, behind his stoic rectangular glasses frames, glimmered with an expression that could only be described as eagerness. He clutched a filled syringe tightly between his finger bones, occasionally glancing down with excitement.

Today, all the hard work, all the frustration, all the near-sleepless nights, all the lethargy, all the effort… would come to fruition. They all knew it. Could all feel it: the light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe, Sans speculated, it would be more appropriate it to call it the start of the tunnel, for this upcoming experiment trial – an assured success – would revolutionize the world.

Would revolutionize their lives.

This was it.

They danced into a world of pipes: the basement of the CORE Royal Laboratories branch, the very center of the CORE. Steel trunks grew upward and outward in a complex knot, tangling into one another to form solid walls. A large space opened up before Sans, Rain, and Gaster as they entered the basement floor, strode into a world of concrete and steel, and approached their laboratory equipment in the center of the room. Soft lights periodically blinked on panels; when Gaster swept past Sans and Rain and began to adjust the settings, more lights began flashing regularly, or elsewise shining like a bright flashlight from the device controls.

Though Gaster turned his back away from Sans and Rain, and thus would not be able to spy any signed conversation between the two researchers, Sans intentionally spoke aloud. The Royal Scientist would not be able to comprehend a word even if he did so choose to turn around.

"so, i've been thinkin'," Sans began, sticking both hands in his lab coat pockets and swiveling around toward Rain. The other scientist only raised his head, but Sans could tell his friend paid him heed. "we need to switch code phrases on that guy."

Rain glanced over at Gaster, then turned his neck back toward Sans. He peered at his friend with a baffled squint. "What?" he said.

"to uber-duper super-booper beyond-all-shadow-of-a-doubt show that the doc's been going back in time, we need _two_ code phrases. he's already got the first one, and he'll say it to us in the timeline that he goes back in time. but if we come up with a second one we haven't told him about…"

"Then… he… won't… know… it?" Rain blinked, groaned, then whacked himself on the head. He quickly corrected himself. "Oh, oh, sorry, wow, I'm slow, I'm slow, I get it now. Two stage authentication."

"bingo." Finger guns.

"He goes back in time once, he says the first code phrase. We only tell him the second one if we hear the first one. Then he goes back in time _again_ and gives us the second phrase. If we hear the second phrase, then there's no way he could have done anything except time travel."

"right. so, what should our secrete sentence be? i think it should be just as elegant as the first one."

"Elegant?" Rain coughed into his sleeve at the misapplied adjective. But his wide face quirked up into a smile, mischief glinted in his eyes, and he giggled, "Alrighty, let's think of something else nasty, then."

Gaster, stoic, poked at work station monitors, preparing for a serious experiment. Rain and Sans huddled together in the back of the room, heads leaned in together, whispering and chuckling. "I've got a bad pimple on my place? Augh, I mean face. Pimple – on – face." Sans ignored the slip of the tongue and nodded at Rain's proposition. "hm, not a bad start, but…" "Um yeah yeah you're right we can do better. Uhhh let's see…" "one thousand herds of elephants are sitting on my toe." "What the heck?" "no, wait, lemme think, it should be in theme with the other one." "Okay, so we're having him say 'I am a stupid doodoo butt.' What's in theme with that?" "heh heh heh. anything gross. snot, burps, farts, all the good ole classics." An eager titter from Rain. "Ohhh ho ho ho he's going to hate us so much!"

Buttons chirped professionally from Gaster's position.

Sans and Rain mimicked fart noises.

"I've got a big fart coming on." "ohhh yes, i can smell the 'sweet' victory already." "I am the world's best farter." "nope, other one's better." "Should we go with –" "hey, wait, wait, i got it. totes figured out our stellar top notch triple secret code phrase." "Yeah?" "wait for it…" "Tell me already!" A belly laugh. "i am the legendary fartmaster."

Rain nearly collapsed in his howls, body bent over, hands covering ribs as he wheezed out cackles.

Gaster turned.

Both hastened to righten themselves. Rain itched his cheek to hide his grin. Sans pretended to read some well-wadded notes he had stuffed into his lab coat pockets. He hoped Gaster would not notice these well-wadded notes were the Sunday comics and not anything physics-related.

 _"Rain, Sans, get over here and quit fooling around,"_ Gaster instructed, with a little more patience that he usually demonstrated of late. Sans worried that the fatigue had been making Gaster snappish. At least on this special day, the Royal Scientist appeared to be in a relatively upbeat mood.

When they arrived at Gaster's side, he pulled out a clipboard and peered through a write up. After examining it, he passed it off to Rain, then signed, _"Everything is in order. Equipment properly maintained, all preliminary tests pass. Today will mark the first test of the barrier magic infusion and an attempted time reversal of seven minutes. Results will be verified through photon scanners and the utterance of a predetermined code phrase."_ He glanced sideways at Sans, displeasure clearly tightening his jawline. Sans chuckled. Continuing onward, Gaster stated, _"Previous tests have demonstrated very limited time travel abilities, but nothing functional for the purpose of our goals. This experiment incorporating human soul magic infusions, if successful, will prove that living monsters can successfully and safely pass backwards in time with no negative effects to their SOUL or body._

 _"At precisely ten AM, I will apply the syringe. At seven past ten, I will attempt the jump."_

Rain, who wore a violet long-sleeved hooded jacket beneath his lab coat, shoved up his sleeves to peer at his watch. He examined the number on his left wrist carefully. _"Two minutes."_

The hypodermic Gaster had been clutching earlier reappeared now between his thumb and pointer finger. Many months of tedious research had been poured into this syringe. Sans recalled the night Rain stumbled upon a new idea to infuse their experiment with human magic, a magic known to be inherently more powerful in time travel than common monster capabilities. He remembered the day they headed up in a "field trip" to the barrier – with the king's permission – to extract some of the heavy human magic lingering in the area. He remembered countless tests, endless weeks scribbling equations, many days frustratedly rubbing his skull, late nights fading into early mornings as he fought, fought, fought for a solution to successful time travel.

He remembered the conversations. _I think I figured out the solution to our problem. Human magic! Weak couplings exist between closely related parallel worlds, which we've tried to access through monster-based magic channels. The problem is that we're trying to create links from present to past with_ monster _magic. Monsters are adept at manipulating space, but not very strong with time. Legends, at least, say that humans are better with time magic. What if we're not using the right energy to go to the past?_

He remembered the development of the theory. The moment when all the information finally linked together in a satisfying explanation. _In quantum teleportation with magic-linked channels, the sending and receiving locations transfer information with the establishment of a quantum entangled state, created through the connection of a magical conduit. The starting and ending time points require the presence of large stable sources of magic, which we've naming SAVE points. While monster magic can create the basic linking channel between points A and B on the timeline, it is mostly insufficient in its capabilities to transmit a living being's SOUL back in time. However, by injecting a monster with human magic, the transfer of both body and SOUL can be successfully completed. Strong residues of human magic are congested within the underground on account of the barrier's formation; extracting this barrier magic, condensing it into a liquid state, and applying it directly into a monster's body through injection will successfully supply the time traveler with the needed magical energies to complete the backwards time jump._

He remembered Rain and his development of the fluid containing human magic. He remembered staring at the hypodermic needle in the laboratory, peaking at the contents inside, and marveling at what this discovery would accomplish.

And today, Gaster would be capable of traveling backwards in time completely safely.

 _"It's ten o'clock,"_ declared Rain.

Sans could feel his bones rattling in anticipation. No fear of failure. No dangerous risks. The old, failed experiment in which Rain nearly died did not come to mind. Today's event would involve no near-casualties. He knew it. Could feel it. Could almost sense it as though he had lived this day before.

Without any hesitation, Gaster poked the needle into his forearm and emptied the syringe. He stared at his arm for a moment, studying it, before he set the empty needle aside. He said nothing.

 _"how's it feel?"_ asked Sans.

 _"Peculiar. If anything, I feel stronger than I have been before."_

They approached their devices. As awkward as the heavily-modified machine appeared, Rain's latest adjustments would ensure a smooth time jump.

 _"It doesn't look like the machine is_ necessary _for living beings to go back in time,"_ Rain had admitted in their last month of research. _"But it will make the jump safer, smoother, and more reliable."_

Ten oh one.

Ten oh two.

 _"this is it!"_ Sans' tight grin was already tiring his face, but in this highly-anticipated moment of revolutionary discovery, he could do nothing _but_ smile.

 _"Are you ready?"_ asked Rain. _"Five minutes isn't a long time to prepare for things. Don't you need to input…"_ He began to point to the machine, but Gaster held up his hands. The Royal Scientist did not allow his colleague to finish the question. Instead, striding forward, he intentionally placed himself far from the machine, standing in the center of the room, where lights from some of the other CORE monitors blinked on his jacket. Gaster allowed himself to be bathed in the blues and reds and violets and blinking whites of CORE circuitry.

 _"I do not need to jump back in time,"_ he said. Did his hands move with a little more jitteriness than typical? He certainly seemed less… stately… for all his words remained formal. _"For you, the time travel event has not unfolded. You hold no recollections of it. But for me, it has already happened within my own personal experiences._ This _, right here, right now, is the timeline to which I have jumped back in time. We do not need to utilize the device because I have already done so."_

Yes, that last phrase Gaster signed betrayed the skeleton's excitement. The Royal Scientist's hands bounced in the air as though he were conducting an upbeat waltz. No terse Gaster today, for the first time in months – only someone incapable of suppressing his excitement with professional stoicism.

Sans could feel the excitement begin to course over him, too. Excited to experience _this_ incredible parallel universe, he could barely form his hands in the proper signs. He repeated his words several times to correct hand errors, despite only attempting to signal two words. _"code phrase,"_ he demanded in a muddled jumble.

Gaster did not heed this request. _"First, I must monitor my statistics,"_ proclaimed the Royal Scientist, heading back toward the equipment to measure his HP. He shrugged briefly after the reading but mentioned nothing about it. To the others, he stated, from across the room, _"No harmful alterations to my body recorded from the time jump."_

 _"That's great!"_ said Rain.

Sans, more insistently, nudged, _"code phrase."_ He had not tackled Gaster to the floor to watch his supervisor skirt over their pre-established test.

No response.

 _"hey! code phrase!"_

 _"I am a doodoo butt."_ Gaster attempted to make this declaration as regal as possible.

If anything, it only made the statement funnier.

 _"oh my_ GOD _, doc,"_ Sans teased. _"didn't know you had it in you. that's_ real _mature."_

Rain tittered to Sans' right.

 _"But,"_ Rain jutted in, gabbing in such glee his fingers constantly stumbled over themselves, _"you actually_ do _have to go back in time again. See, Sans and I came up with a second code phrase that we'd only give you if you told us the first code phrase. That way…"_

 _"I am a legendary fartmaster."_

Everyone… paused.

As humorous as the statement was, the gravity of the situation hit them harder. Rain and Sans did not laugh upon sighting the second code phrase signed.

"holy shit," Sans breathed aloud. "that… does it."

 _"OH MY GOD!"_

And in a moment of jubilation, all three of them – Gaster included – raised their hands to the ceiling. Sans crashed into both his companions, yanking them in a group hug; Rain boogied in the center of the concrete floor and hooted out a carol; Gaster pulled out a genuinely happy smile and clasped his fingers over his nasal bone. Something wet dripped near his eyes and cheeks. They clapped one another on the back. Babbled excitedly with their fingers. Flapped their limbs wildly. Throughout it all, faces continued breaking into wild grins.

 _"Congratulations, Doctor C. S. Serif and Doctor Rain Pearson, you have made history."_ Gaster still beamed like a dork.

 _"hell yeah! we did it!"_

 _"Biggest scientific breakthrough of the century!"_

 _"can't believe it!"_

 _"We're going home!"_

Laughter.

Camaraderie.

Amazement.

Hopes and dreams dancing through the mind.

* * *

 _[[File 16.3 SA-20150709-#-#]]_

Sans had never expected to see Papyrus and Undyne dance on top of a table.

As energetic as Papyrus tended to be on a given day, this sort of clowning contradicted his typical neat freak ideals. Sans found it amusing enough to watch his brother stomp gallantly across the table surface. Yet what bemused him most was the presence of the tough, militant _Captain of the Guard_ joining her companion, smashing all the table's plates with her tramping feet, and howling – half-correctly – the lyrics to the party's latest, randomly-selected karaoke song. That, combined with Papyrus' dreadfully out-of-pitch caterwauling, transformed Grillby's from a typical low-key local establishment into the underground's rowdiest party hub.

"IT'S A _FISH_ CONVINCING PEOPLE TO LIIIIIKE YOU! !" jubilantly howled Undyne and Papyrus.

 _i… don't think you got every word right…_

"IF I STOP NOW CALL ME A QUITTER!"

Plate smashed beneath foot. Cheese fries launched across the room like missiles, successfully striking several monsters in the room. Grillby, from the corner of the bar, dejectedly watched cheese rain down and slick the surface of his once-pristine wood floor.

"IF FLIES WORE HATS YOU'D BE MORE BITTER!"

 _oh my god, that is_ definitely _not right._ Sans found himself chuckling beneath the karaoke beat and the shouts of ecstatic Royal Guards clomping about the room. The restaurant's high decibels completely masked the sound of Sans laughing; one could see his belly roll, but not even Sans could hear himself chortling. He exchanged an amused grin with one of his companions at the bar, who was laughing just as much at Papyrus and Undyne's antics as they were Grillby's displeased but wordless response to the debacle.

By the time of the second chorus, Undyne and Papyrus had completely given up singing the correct lyrics and had instead switched to improvisation. "I CAN'T DECIIIIIDE IF I WANT BURGERS OR FRIIIIIIES! !"

The displeased glare on Grillby's face suggested he would provide them neither at this point. Papyrus kicked another something off the table. It might have been a salt shaker.

As destructive as the two were, Sans could only enjoy the spectacle. Grillby would be moving out of the underground, anyhow, and would not be able to transport all his belongings to the surface world. If any night were to be disastrous at the restaurant, tonight was perfect for it. And besides, it had been a long, _long_ time since Sans had seen his brother so upbeat, so energetic, so unreservedly happy and mingling with a crowd of souls.

As worried as Sans had been about entering this evening party, he found himself thankful he had attended. This was the perfect way to end his days in the underground.

Yet as entertaining as it was to watch his brother stomp across a table, the loud booming noises disoriented Sans too much to remain indoors. Plopping his ketchup back into his pocket and picking up his half-finished beer, Sans slowly pulled himself off the bar stool and shuffled to the restaurant entrance. He would not return home just yet… simply stand outdoors, where he noted several other Grillby's regulars currently mingled.

He found himself stepping into the middle of an engaging discussion. Contrasting the mindless mayhem indoors, out here a group of monsters debated ancient scholarship. Intrigued, Sans slipped toward the cluster, leaned up against the restaurant walls, and sipped at his beer while he listened to the latest debater declare, "The prophecy is _so_ not fulfilled."

"You've got to be kidding me. The underground is literally about to 'go empty.' How can it not be fulfilled?"

Several of the monsters noticed Sans' presence and glanced at him. A few stepped sideways to include him in their conversation circle.

"Because," said the first insistent speaker, "who was the person who saw the surface? Nobody, I think."

"Asgore?" someone asked. "During the Human Monster War…"

"The problem is that the prophecy says that The One Who Has Seen the Surface _returns_ to the underground. Asgore just stayed here. He _so_ didn't do any returning."

"True…"

Sans choked on his swig of beer when a third converser entered the conversation. "What about Sans?"

He spit out the drink onto the snow. Putting his right hand to his forehead, and shaking his neck wildly, Sans stepped in, "whoa there. bud, who the hell do you think i am?" Not his typical nonchalant redirect… but then…

 _Memories of visions tickling at the back of his…_

No, they couldn't know. They wouldn't believe.

Thankfully, the main arguer – who was coming to dominate the conversation now – shook her head. "Sans might have killed the human (thank you, Sans), but he hasn't _been_ to the surface. It's _so_ not him."

Sans said nothing. He did not enjoy being part of this conversation.

"But if the prophecy's not fulfilled…" the second monster responded, in a quieter voice, one who let their words carry the weight of their argument without pushing in, "…then how are we leaving?"

Everyone paused reflectively.

The monster continued. "Maybe we don't understand it, but the prophecy's done. Tomorrow, Asgore's opening the barrier. Tomorrow, we begin our exodus to the surface world. Tomorrow, the prophecy is fulfilled."

* * *

 _[[File 16.4 SA-20150710-#-#]]_

How long had he dreamt to see the stars? Not the stones in Waterfall, not the animated diamonds in movies, not the charts in astronomy textbooks, not the photographs from the internet, not the poorly-rendered visuals in monster CGI? The true, real stars, beneath the true, real sky, he standing on the surface world and gazing upward at an infinity of glowing points?

A discarded NASA sweater floating amongst Waterfall debris… an internet compilation of Hubble space photographs… a telescope gifted to him on his thirtieth birthday… those had never been enough.

When he had dreamt of freedom, he had dreamt of stars.

He reached out his left hand toward a darkened black sky, eyesockets unmoving, unblinking, gazing in wonder, wordless wonder… as he spied the stars with his own sight for the first time in his life. Small, twinkling sparks glittering alongside a waning crescent moon. Soft light beams drenching Sans and his brother in moonbeams and moonshadow.

The world around them rustled quietly in a delicate night breeze. Grass, tickling at Sans' knees, brushed softly through the wind. He could smell nature growing around them, could spy dim trees shadows dotting the landscape, could gaze out toward a horizon of tumbling, rolling ground. But what enchanted him most was the large, large, large expanse above him. No rocks above his head. No tightly-closed spaces. No caves. No corridors. Only an infinite nothingness sparkling in stars.

Even Papyrus fell silent at this enchanting world. For once he paused, standing still, not shuffling his feet, not doing anything except gazing about the surface world. "wowie…" A quiet word.

Sans continued staring.

 _freedom…_

That single thought – _freedom_ – broke him. At once he could feel the weight of the last ten days crash down upon him. Less than two weeks ago, he had expected to loiter the rest of his unfulfilling life in Snowdin. And yet… a human had come. Had died. Reality had shifted. The barrier broken. And now… now he was here… here on the surface…

Before, these concepts had felt so foreign that he could not believe them. Not truly. Not accept them in his SOUL. Only now, standing knee-deep in rustling grasses, gazing at the constellations… could he comprehend the gravity of what had just occurred.

 _we're free._

Hand reached up to the infinite sky. He gradually squeezed his fingerbones shut together, as though he could pluck the moon from the sky.

"yeah. wow," he respired at last.

His feet remained stationed on this small patch of grass. Roots would grow from his shoe soles and plant him here like a tree. The awe of this world immobilized him.

Sans could have stood, silently, like this forever, but then his brother spoke and lapsed him somewhat out of his reverie, if not his sense of peace.

"THAT GROUP OF STARS LOOKS LIKE MY FACE." Papyrus' glove jabbed at the sky, tracing vaguely around a group of points. "THOSE THREE ARE MY SMILE!"

"three in a line? that's orion's belt." How could he feel so calm and so excited at once? Gazing at the stars provided tranquility, and yet… spying them for the first time in person… enthralled him. He began to cite his knowledge, letting it escape calmly into the crisp night air. "the three component stars are alnitak, alnilam, and mintaka, though technically both alnitak and mintaka are multiple star systems. so… alnitak a is neat. brightest class o star in the night sky. it's a blue supergiant. 'bout twenty times the diameter as the sun on this planet… …if i remember right. think i got that right. p' cool, huh, bro?"

"THAT IS COOL FOR SCIENCE FICTION!" said Papyrus. He shifted focus to the moon. "BUT IT'S A LOT SMALLER THAN THAT ONE!"

Sans smiled and pointed to Mars. "that one's bigger."

"OH MY GOD, SANS! NO IT'S NOT! ! ! EVEN YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT!"

He pointed to Venus. "that one's even bigger."

"…" Papyrus glanced at his brother sideways, concerned about the skeleton's failing knowledge of geometry.

"but still not as big as the first star i was talking about."

"…"

Sans stood there, smirking and chuckling, at his brother's bemused perplexion.

"HOW ARE YOU ALWAYS SO WRONG AT EVERYTHING?" the tall skeleton said at last. He was clearly disappointed with Sans.

"dunno. good thing i've got you around."

"WELL," huffed Papyrus, " _SOMEONE_ HAS TO KEEP YOU ON THE STRAIGHT AND NARROW! AND THE SMART AND SENSIBLE. SHEESH. THAT SIDEWAYS SPAGHETTI BOWL IN THE SKY IS OBVIOUSLY LARGER THAN ALL THE SPRINKLES! !"

Papyrus, predictably growing bored of craning his neck upward, trotted off toward the rest of the world. In a very short time Papyrus had lost all silent reverie for the stars and returned to his typical energetic state, dashing about the meadow and discovering new surface world treasures. Sans could hear his brother from the edge of his perception. He wished to continue soaking in the constellations… Canis Major, with Sirius, brightest star in the night sky, binary star system, over three hundred million years old… and there Epsilon Canis Majoris… and…

"LOOK AT ALL THE BUGS, SANS! !" Papyrus' voice ripped into his brother's thoughts. "THE UNDERGROUND NEVER HAD SO MANY BUGS LIKE THIS! I WISH I HAD AS MANY ARMS AS THEY DO! THAT'D MAKE ME LOOK EVEN MORE DASHING, DON'T YOU THINK? THE GREAT PAPYRUS, SIX-ARMED SKELETAL WONDER OF THE WORLD!"

"no, gotta make it ten arms. one more than a mutant spider."

"FOR ONCE, I AGREE WITH YOU! GREAT IDEA!"

Eyes panned over the night sky in the short conversation gap. Leo. He picked out the stars. Regulus, Beta Leonis…

"BUT THEN I WOULDN'T HAVE AS MANY ARMS AS A CENTIPEDE! I NEED ONE HUNDRED AND ONE!"

More darting. Sans caught sight of something white and orange streaming across the field.

"I THINK I JUST FOUND A SKELETON THAT DOESN'T MOVE! THAT'S REALLY WEIRD! ALL SKELETONS MOVE!"

"i bet that one's just movin reeeeeal slow."

More dashing. Papyrus began flying like a helicopter propeller.

Sans remained grounded, soaking in starlight.

"HEY! ! THESE FLOWERS LOOK… FAMILIAR! ? ! SANS, HAVE YOU SEEN THESE BEFORE?"

Stars, stars, shimmering stars. He could stare at them forever. But Sans finally forced himself to turn his sight away from the night sky and peep into the latest novelty Papyrus had discovered.

Sans' untied tennis shoes slowly slipped between grass blades as he padded toward his brother. Papyrus had indeed located a large field of wildflowers, difficult to spy in the darkness of night, but still visible from the moon's faint glow. Sans could not tell how far they stretched. Probably quite a distance. He could not quite perceive the color of the flowers right now, either… but if he were to guess… he would suspect they were yellow.

Yellow flowers…

The breeze shifted into a wind. Sans could almost imagine he heard the airstream singing.

"they're the same flower asgore grew in his throne room," he said.

"THEY'RE DIFFERENT FLOWERS. THEY JUST LOOK THE SAME," Papyrus clarified.

Cold suddenly shook the marrow in Sans' bones. Something far chilling than the nipping breeze made him shudder. He remembered his conversation the other day with Asgore about the war with humans… remembered how the Royal Guard had been first to march through the barrier…

Now here they stood in a meadow of golden petals. He had heard the old tales. This flower field was the site of an ancient tragedy.

"we should get moving," he said in a low voice. He did not wish the past to speed up to the present. "there's a path over there. let's see if it leads somewhere."

Enchantment had died with the flower field. Not even the stars could resettle Sans' mood. He hoped staring upward would return his mental state to a world of marvels, but instead, uneasiness crept along his spine, and he felt his feet quicken their pace. He would not mind leaving this particular part of the surface world behind.

But the road… the road on which he traveled… was dust. Not the dust of monsters, this he knew. Not the dust of the dead. But it was still dust, and it felt… unpleasant… to tread upon this path.

He tried to minimize kicking up the dust as he placed one foot before the other.

Wind whipped up, yanking at flower stems and setting the path apuff in dirt clouds. And the two brothers, side-by-side, wandered alone in the dark.

There were monsters up ahead and monsters still exiting the underground behind them: this Sans knew. He could not currently spy anyone else, though, in this infinite world. As far as he perceived, only he existed, and Papyrus.

And the humans who had paved this path.

 _try not to think on it._

"WE'LL HAVE TO GO BACK AND FORTH FROM THE UNDERGROUND TO THE SURFACE ONCE WE FIND OUR NEW HOUSE!" Papyrus rambled, excitedly accounting his plans for their second start. He seemed completely undisturbed, or perhaps attempting to spark cheer into the atmosphere after their unexpected encounter with a cursed flower field. "I HAVE A SPLENDID CONSTRUCTION PLAN TO TURN OUR NEW HOME INTO PERFECTION!"

Sans forced himself to croak out two words. "oh yeah?" he said.

"IT WILL BE CONSTRUCTED ENTIRELY OF BONES AND SPAGHETTI! !"

"sounds cool."

"OF COURSE IT IS!"

The wind continued moaning.

It almost sounded like a scream.

Except…

Sans started.

 _that_ was _a scream._

Down the path, down a hill… he could spy the tips of rooftops. All else had been obscured in foliage, so he could not make out who lived in this area, or who might have passed by it. Had the screamer come from there? Had it just been a human, startled by something in the night?

And then he saw a flash of magic.

Something… something wasn't right.


	19. 17: Foreboding

**17\. Foreboding**

 _[[File 17.1 JA]]_

Artificial stars glimmered faintly from cavern walls. Small, indistinct sparks, in a never-moving constellation, drifted distantly above his head, while nearer sources of light set his jacket ablaze in blue. Sans sought to avoid stepping near the Echo Flowers – not only because their murmurs haunted – but because he wished to escape detection. They glowed like lamps. Better to slip between stalagmites, hanging to the shadows, and creeping far off the main trail in meandering detours… than to be sighted by another traveler on this road.

He hoped no one would recognize him, even if he did slip near another soul. Yet the disadvantage of being a widely-traversed monster was that, even here, deep within the Waterfall caverns, so far from home, he could chance upon someone he knew. Nor did it help the individual he stalked would draw attention; there would be more than the typical share of traffic to the roads with a human around.

Yet again he yanked at his hood, pulling it over his forehead as far as it would go. Afterwards his fingers shifted a scarf amassing around his cheeks and nasal concha. It felt scratchy, uncomfortable, unnatural… he did not enjoy wearing it. Had he no need to conceal his face and slip quickly through the dark, he would not have wrapped it around his neck.

The scarf belonged to Papyrus, not to him.

 _He could still feel the dust upon its fibers._

Somehow, that did not unnerve him. It would have at one point. He might have gagged when he was younger, choking on the weave and the dust, trembling at the morbidity of the item and its proximity to his teeth. But today, he only whispered a sentence in his mind.

 _i'm sorry, bro…_

He was apologizing for his numbness. He hadn't cried this time. He hadn't cried the last few times. He still felt uncomfortable wearing the scarf, but…

He forced himself forward around another stalagmite.

Technically he could have rushed back for his own clothing back home – teleportation allowed him that luxury – yet he could not find within himself the effort to do so. He could hardly find the effort to continue stalking forward. What worth was this, keeping the human in sight, keeping his identity obscured? What worth was any of this?

But with the little motivation he still had left, with the dying hope he held for the future… he had picked up the scarf as he traveled past it, wrapped it around his neck, and continued after the murderer.

Now he slinked through the Waterfall caverns. He continued adjusting the scarf around his neck as he stomped forward, hoping that somehow a new positioning would feel _slightly_ less scratchy, _slightly_ less uncomfortable.

It never quit itching.

While standing sheltered behind the shadows, Sans cast a long glance forward. He could see the silhouette of the traveler he trailed, that tiny but impacting human. As they walked obliviously away from Sans down the road, they swung a right hand which bulged twice its typical size. It was some thick boxing glove they wore. They had used it to murder monsters.

Sans was… supposed to care about that.

His fingers shuffled through his jacket pockets until he pulled out a small electronic device. He pulled the gadget close up to his left eye, squinted, and sought to make out the numbers. Perhaps it read _MW 568._ Maybe _569_. He hoped it was the former, but suspected that was not the case. Not with how this human had been acting.

Footsteps echoed hollowly through the tunnels. The human strode past an Echo Flower and their shadows bounced for meters each direction, haunting the corridors with their exit, ghosting the hallways with their entrance. Their blackness oozed over Sans for a second; he was drenched in dark, coated in their oily profile, before they stepped on forward. Echo. Echo. Echo. The clopping of their footsteps haunted more than flower whispers.

Sans brushed against stone for another step forward. His hood obscured much of his already-weak vision, but he would not lose track of the human. He needed to keep telling himself that… that… it was worth it.

"Hi there. I almost didn't see you." The voice ricocheted through the hall, booming off the ceilings and spinning down passageways. "Why ya hidin' in the corner there?"

Sans could hear no response. But he knew, even though he couldn't see it, that some other monster stood in the hallway… that the human had spotted and approached them.

 _another death coming._

His hands rested steady in his pockets.

"C'mon out an' play with me," said the high-pitched voice of a human child. They sounded almost as though they were coaxing a dog. "It's okay."

Sans could see a second form now, a fish-like head with wide eyes and trembling scales.

The human set down their glove.

"See? I'm not gonna hurt you." And they began to hum. "How's that? You like that?"

The monster began to hum back.

And melodies arose, and countermelodies, and harmonies, and increasingly bold and delightful music, and the tune turned into a song, and the song turned into a ballad, and the ballad turned into a masterpiece. A monster swam by. Paused. And another. Another. A small crowd began to form, watching human and fish together make music. Sans could not believe how many monsters conglomerated together… had there really been so many travelers this day in Waterfall?

Yet for all a commotion was starting to arise, he remained rooted in the distance. He found himself again tugging at his hood and itchy scarf.

 _you're sparing her…_

Hand touched fabric.

 _…so why did you kill my brother?_

* * *

 _[[File 17.2 SA-20150710-#-#]]_

Though the crowds dispersed, monsters continued babbling excitedly. A host of jabbers crashed one on top another above Sans and Papyrus. "I'm gonna get my stuff and be outta here by tonight!" "I can't believe it!" "He did it he did it he did it!" "We're free!" The loudest voice, resounding right above Sans, exclaimed its own particularly jovial oration. "DID YOU SEE THAT, SANS? DID YOU SEE DID YOU SEE DID YOU SEE? THE ROYAL GUARD WALKED STRAIGHT THROUGH THE BARRIER! WE DID IT! WELL, THEY DID IT, BUT BY EXTENSION, 'WE', BECAUSE I AM MORE OR LESS ROYAL GUARD, TOO!"

No one seemed disconcerted. No one seemed disconcerted about the Royal Guard's departure.

No one but Sans.

He glanced back, apprehensive, letting his brother's delighted dialogue roll over his head sin response. He strained to hear the clunk, clunk, clunk of armor disappearing from the underground.

ASGORE had not mentioned the war against humanity in his pre-barrier breakage speech. For all the king had declared war vocally, loudly, gallantly after his childrens' deaths, proclaiming he would march forth against humanity upon taking seven SOULs… not a single word of aggression had entered the Throne Room today. An intentional avoidance of inevitable brutality? He remembered ASGORE's implied offer to him – to leave the barrier first with a contingent of skilled fighters. That _would_ suggest the war's promise still held, right? These monsters would fight upon reaching the surface? Or had the king's reluctance to pursue violence convinced him to enter the world in peace? He had never been good about waging his own war.

All Sans knew was the Royal Guard marched forth first. They were the first to pass past the barrier's remains. To safely examine the state of the surface world… or… to clear a path?

* * *

 _[[File 17.3 IH-20150701-#-#]]_

Concentrate. Concentrate concentrate concentrate.

Had to remember. Had to recall something he had not technically experienced: another world in a separate timeline with a separate Sans.

 _what had that the human been talking about?_

"The nice old lady's okay." "I did what you said to do." "The flower wasn't there but now it is." "Now things are worse!"

As much as their words seemed to Sans like incoherent babbling, he doubted the human had truly spewed nonsense. The words carried meaning to the child, and because the child had consciously relayed the information to Sans, this likely meant the information would be pertinent, relevant, informative to him, too.

If only the human had not sprinted off after shouting their cryptic comments about a lady and a flower. Sans would have appreciated the opportunity to ask follow-ups enquiries for clarification.

Little to mull over and examine, as it was. Poor situations… a flower…

…a lady.

A lady.

A nice old lady.

His friend on the other side of the door.

"The nice old lady's okay."

Somehow, something tickled at the back of his mind, as though a true memory were burgeoning forth out of the impossible. Sans scrunched his eyesockets shut and forced himself to concentrate further on the topic. What could his strange sense of déjà vu inform him concerning the woman within the Ruins?

 _Memories… memories of another timeline…_

The child would have been the one to reset the world and return to this time point. As the individual with the most determination, all they would have had to do was blink and will themselves back in time. Their phrase, "I did what you said to do," could have been an indication Sans himself, in the previous parallel world, had instructed the child to initiate the time travel.

This kid had returned to their prior SAVE point.

They had come back here to relive this moment… why?

A sense of foreboding washed over him. He paid it heed. This strange sense of repeated days carried useful information. It came as a tell-tale indication some individual had reset the timeline and traveled backward to form a new chronology. Whenever an individual restarted an event, they created two parallel worlds, and because those parallel worlds arose from the same situation, they remained weakly coupled. That sense of foreboding he experienced could guide him to understand, if not fully recall, the previous parallel world. He needed to understand this hesitancy of parallel world Sans.

Emotions.

Sadness.

Pain.

Shock.

Sans frowned.

He did not know from where the thought came, but it came nevertheless.

She had… _died_ … hadn't she?

Died.

Somehow he knew it were true.

The memories were coming back to him, if memories they could be called.

"The nice old lady's okay." The human had shouted that sentence out of seeming nowhere, yet they needed motivation to shout this information.

And now, now Sans stood right next to the Ruins door. He had knocked. Several times. Loudly. With no response.

 _but if i told this kid to go back in time to save her… why is she still dead?_

* * *

 _[[File 17.4 GA]]_

 _"The establishment of successful time travel does not merit a rest."_

 _"You've been getting grouchier and grouchier, and that's probably because you won't take a break!"_

 _"look at you, doc. the bags under your eyesockets are bigger than your glasses. you_ need – _"_

 _"If anything,"_ Gaster continued, completely ignoring Sans and Rain's protests, _"our recent extraordinary breakthrough requires even greater concentration and more dedicated pursuit to the science. The goal of our project might now be within reach of our lifetimes, so long as we do not slack now that the 'hardest' part of the research has been completed. I suspect the most challenging nuances of the –"_

 _"you've heard how minds function faster when they get a good night's rest, right?"_ Sans forced himself into the conversation before Gaster could ramble up a longer excuse. _"maybe you'd get more productive hours in if you slept. might want to try that? maybe? good idea? am i right?"_

 _"This meeting was scheduled not to harp upon me for my productive work ethic –"_

 _"'productive,' my ass,"_ Sans scoffed. _"i know we're all workaholics, but you're long past becoming a workaholicholic, if not a workaholicholicholi –"_

" _– but to debrief you two on my latest discoveries and observations of short term parallel universe jumps. Unless,"_ and Gaster glared at Sans, who was still repeatedly rubbing one balled fist over the other hand's knuckles. _"…you want to waste all my time signing one word repeatedly."_ Sans quit his signing, shrugged, and laid both his hands on his lap. He maintained his glare on the scientist, though.

 _"Good."_

Gaster raised one hand to adjust his lab coat. Instead of neatly fixing his appearance, he wiped something goopy from his finger onto the collar. He elected to ignore it.

 _"There appears to be no straightforward method to reverse the strange limitation set by the establishment of a past time SAVE point. As we suspected, once I have selected the time instance to which I plan to return, I cannot reverse the choice. I can create a new SAVE point at a more recent chronological instance, but cannot proceed further backwards again. The presence of a new SAVE point appears to erase the presence of the old, and renders the older time stream inaccessible."_

 _"it's sort of like those old video games,"_ Sans laughed, _"where you could save once, but once you overwrite the save, there's no turning back."_

 _"…yes."_ Sans doubted, from Gaster's hesitant response, that the Royal Scientist had ever played a video game, _"…exactly like that."_

 _"That said,"_ the Royal Scientist continued, _"I suspect there may be a second, more chronologically dated point which can be accessed by erasing the one existing SAVE point in entirety. Without the presence of a SAVE point to ground the time traveler in their backwards journey, they will continue traversing backward in the timespace continuum until they reach a 'starting point.'"_

 _"Like, their birth?"_ Rain asked, puzzled.

 _"Uncertain. It could be birth. It could be further back than that. Or maybe sooner, I do not know. I have not yet attempted to make such a jump, nor have my computations been conclusive. Before I do this jump, obviously, I would wish to make sure it would be a time point much more recent than my birth. That would provide… complications… if that were indeed the point of the reset."_

 _"reset? that's a good name for it."_

 _"So we have SAVE points and RESETs,"_ said Rain. _"Or, I guess, one SAVE and one RESET. You either redo your entire timestream completely, or you go back to one specific point and not any further. That seems like it could be a… problem… since we want to go further back than that. If you can either go to one moment you pick, or to some very far back point you can't choose… then how do we go back hundreds of years?"_

 _"Indeed a challenging question, and the reason why we cannot afford to slack in our efforts."_ Gaster stared speculatively downward at a pile of papers. Or perhaps it was an unhappy glare; Sans could not see what Gaster was rereading. The doctor reached forward, scratched at a print letter, and rubbed off another small trickle of goop.

Gaster abruptly stood up, back stiff and arms straightened like rods. _"Excuse me,"_ he said. Without another word, he marched off, presumably to wash off the frustrating mystery gunk from his hands.

Sans and Rain glanced at one another.

"Was that just me, or…" Rain struggled to finish his sentence. "…or were his hands _leaking_?"

* * *

 _[[File 17.5 CO]]_

He almost felt like throwing his phone against the bedroom wall. He could excuse the Royal Scientist's quiet and reclusive nature on a regular day, but not today. Not today. Not today of all days.

"alphys! alphys, i know youre there. pick up your goddamned phone, alphys!"

And yet the dial tone continued moaning. He would hear her voice mail message soon. She would not garner the social courage to listen to the voice mail for another three months, did he choose to wait for the beep. His message would be pointless.

Angrily, Sans snapped his cell phone shut, waited ten seconds, and then impatiently phoned her again. The distal phalanx on his pointer finger angrily stabbed the buttons.

"its gonna keep ringing 'til you answer, alphys," he muttered as another monster outside his window crumbled to dust.


	20. 18: Thunderclap

**18\. Thunderclap**

 _[[File 18.1 GA-#####]_

Three monsters reclined in small coffee shop stools, excitement running on their faces. The dim light of night outside could not hide their wide smiles. Ties had been stripped and left to hang on the backs of their chairs, collars had been loosened, lab coats had been discarded, and in Sans' case, he had even pulled off his polished black shoes for a pair of fuzzy green cat slippers. He propped those slippers up prominently on one unused chair, an action which caused Gaster to grimace, if not precisely make commentary on the casual action. Yet even Gaster had pulled his right arm behind him to informally rest it on the chair back, left arm resting on the café table and holding his mug handle. At times, he raised it up to his lips to sip the still-warm tea. He might have been a little terse, a little on edge, and sometimes a little curt compared to how he had been in previous café visits, but he at least was attending to the motions of relaxing now. He wanted to be here, with his two team members, with his two friends.

Sans had completely chugged his coffee by now, and was contemplating another cup, apart from the fact he did not want Gaster to foot too large a bill – the Royal Scientist was, as adamantly always, paying for everyone present – while Rain had yet to touch his frothy, sugary drink. The engineer instead leaned forward to attack his latest crayon masterpiece. It might have been a self-portrait – but then again, it also might have been the drawing of a column, a coffee machine, or the Grim Reaper. His work was even worse than usual, for he scribbled even as his eyes left the paper, staring wide-eyed and eager at Gaster's recounts.

 _"wow, really? are you sure that's what happened?"_ Sans asked, signing between Rain and Gaster. _"i don't know if i believe you."_

 _"Indeed so,"_ Gaster said. His stiffness dropped for a moment, smile not reaching his cheekbones but still lighting his eyesockets. _"What reason would I have to account anything differently?"_

This remark prompted Rain to set down his pencil. Probably for the best. His right hand had just slipped outside the lines and started drawing a random glob of purple aside the outlined monster figure. He would need a lot of creativity and fortune to correct that error. _"To be fair, Gaster,"_ said Rain, with an amused hum on top his signs, _"you are in a constant prank war with Sans. I know works' been busy, so it's been a very long time since you've messed up his office or posted blackmail photos on the lab bulletin boards. But because it's been a long time, we are on our guard."_

 _"since you're the only one going through these parallel universes,"_ added Sans, _"we have no way of knowing if you're making these stories up."_

 _"I could not make this story up,"_ said Gaster. _"You know it is far too creative for me to conjure on my own."_

Sans and Rain glanced at one another, bobbed their heads in consideration, and then, at once, nodded. This convinced them. They knew the ever goal-oriented doctor quite well.

 _"true,"_ said Sans, at the same time Rain said, _"True."_

Sans continued, smile still wide, _"okay. let's hear another story."_

Gaster paused contemplatively, taking the time of consideration to stare deeply into his tea mug, pick it up, and take a long draught. He set the cup down again, at which point he appeared to have finally remembered something worthwhile. He glanced to his right carefully – at the owner of the obnoxious green kitty slippers – before enunciating, _"The next tale that comes to mind involves your brother."_

Rain started giggling, crayon again skewing wildly – this time a green one – at the same time Sans blinked rapidly in confusion. _"wait, what? but you haven't met papyrus."_

 _"I did in this timeline. Friendly fellow, if also… quite a memorable experience."_

 _"i don't know if i want to know."_

 _"Of course you do,"_ said Rain. His hum had turned into a bouncy, amused giggle, already anticipating a good story. He leaned forward over his artwork, scattering a few crayons across the table – one even dropping to the floor – as he propped his elbows on the table and used the palms of his hands to push up his cheeks. A wide grin and equally wide eyes peered out from under his ever-present purple hood.

 _"Suffice it to say your brother visited the laboratory one day, during a school holiday I believe, and assisted in… altering the results… of one of your experiments."_ Gaster was not one talented in storytelling, but the dry and carefully worded comment fueled Rain nevertheless into spewing out laughter. Sans, groaning in amusement, rubbed his left hand against his forehead. The groans turned louder and turned to repeated signed _"no"_ s when Gaster elaborated, _"I believe he thought he was assisting with lunch."_

 _"whoops."_

 _"The laboratory did not_ quite _burn down, but…"_

 _"oh my god."_

 _"I paid for all the damages for you,"_ Gaster assured Sans with a wave of his hand. _"You didn't need the financial burden. And your brother really was enjoying himself the entire time. He shared all the popcorn with everyone in means of apology."_

 _"great…"_

 _"I wish I had seen this,"_ tittered Rain. _"I guess I did, but I didn't, so I wish I had…"_

Simultaneously amused and abashed, Sans pointed his left hand to Rain's work. He chided, before his coworker could continue babbling, _"hey, keep drawing."_

Rain stayed smirking at Sans, but obliged and plucked up his purple crayon. He was beginning to draw a hood on the middle height figure to the left.

Sans kept one eye on Rain's drawings even as he sent an inquiry to Gaster. _"so you saw my brother visit the lab? it sounds like that was a long time ago, back when i had first started working for you. that means you've tried a RESET and not just a SAVE, right?"_

Gaster's face contorted into a grimace. He ground his teeth for a short moment before he answered. His pretended pleasant mood faded into something unfeigned. His hands bit out a bitter response; he seemed to be talking about a long-term problem he had been battling for some time. _"Yes, that incident did come out of a RESET, though I did not travel so far back chronologically as I would have wished. It feels as though I reach a block and cannot travel back further than a certain point in my career. It is a problem I will need to study with great deliberation and no little time."_

 _"well, you've got plenty of time now that you can hop backwards,"_ Sans said with a shrug. Maybe that appeal to logic would calm his supervisor. And maybe a conversational tangent could help, too. _"i must say, it sounds like you've been exploring back in time more than i thought you would. how many jumps have you made now? there's no way for you to send us documentation, so…"_

 _"I am experiencing my twenty-seventh timeline, as of now."_

Sans and Rain whistled. Both of them gave the same sign – an open hand, knuckles facing out, shaken up and down twice. _"wow."_

 _"I will do as many time skips as it is needed to advance our goal,"_ said the scientist. Strangely, he seemed a little terse at his coworkers' awed responses. Usually, he would have taken their adulations with a completely passive expression. As it was, a little irritation pulled down his forehead. Perhaps repeating the same events so many times had worn on him. Perhaps the lack of progress reaching his apparent goal grated him more.

 _"As it is…"_ Gaster glanced outdoors, now thoroughly dark, and fidgeted in his chair. He stared at his cup as though contemplating whether the last third were worth drinking. It would be cold by now. His foot jittered impatiently at the chair, a silent indication he would prefer to rush out the door than finish what he had purchased. _"…I have spent more time than planned here. As enjoyable as the diversions have been, this work requires my attention with greater energy than ever before. I may have access to time travel, but I do nevertheless still find time of the essence."_

 _"you call twenty minutes at a coffee shop a long break? wow. that's… pretty taskmastering, doc. make sure you don't overwork yourself."_

In a sudden break of passiveness, Gaster snapped, _"For the love of god, quit questioning me. Quit pestering me. Of course I will not overwork myself, Sans! That will never be an issue!"_

That on-edge disposition he had been fighting the entire café break finally caved in. But Gaster had never – never – snapped out like _that_ before. Sans and Rain paused. How long had the Royal Scientist been fighting back his frustrations by pretending to enjoy their coffee outing? Why would Gaster be irritated now, of all times? Sans had said very little to merit such a snappish response.

Self-conscious of the outburst, Wings Dings calmed himself, and proceeded more stoically, _"I shall see the both of you in my office tomorrow to discuss my latest research breakthroughs on SAVE point construction and utilization."_

He at this point quickly reached for his coat, slipped it over his green sweater, and left the coffee shop before either colleague could wish him goodbye. A drop from his right hand finger – perhaps a loose droplet of tea? – splashed on the table as he left.

"Drat," sighed Rain. "Just when I finished this picture and was going to show him. I was hoping it'd make him less irritable. He has been a little irritable the last few days, hasn't he?"

"i wanna see it," Sans insisted, trying to shake off Gaster's strange and unexpected snap and encourage his colleague into renewed good spirits. It truly did make no sense in context. Gaster cared for his team; while he maintained a carefully neutral, professional expression around them, he never fell to anything impatient or unkind. "show me the pic."

Rain held up the drawing and grinned. Though Sans had been uncertain before what his friend had been attempting to draw, he could tell now – in part because the clothing corresponded to what all of them had been wearing that night. The smallest round blob, little more than a circle with a head to the right, wore something green on his feet. The medium height pillar on the right sported a violet hoodie and long pants. The central figure wore a long jacket and a green undershirt. Sans, Rain, and Gaster.

"It's us!" Rain beamed. "The dream team! The unlockers of time travel! The three future heroes of the underground!"

"hey, that's p' cool." Sans could feel a genuine smile returning to his face. He remembered how excited Doctor Gaster had been the moment they discovered time travel – he had been crying, laughing, and smiling alongside the two of them. Sans could still see the expression. The current situations of constant backtracking must have worn him down, but… they would return to that state of elation sometime, wouldn't they, once they reached the surface?

* * *

 _[[File 18.2 SA-20150710-11-#-#]]_

Any average individual with common sense – or at least a healthy state of self-preservation – would have raced the other direction. Hell, even someone with a marginal sense of caution or love of life would not have neared this place. Another set of shouts and a burst of orange magic shot above treetops… a specialized, exhausting form of magic monsters typically reserved for special events or desperate self-defense. Sans doubted the orange bursts signified celebration. Though monsters, leaving the underground for the first time in centuries, could find sufficient cause to celebrate, he knew those had not been shrieks of joy echoing in the magic spark's aftermath.

Whether or not Papyrus judged these shouts safe, Sans could not say. All he knew was that his brother – unlike any common individual – charged directly _toward_ those surges of magic. It would have been just like his younger brother to hear shouts, spy sparks, and deduce the presence of party. Yet Papyrus also far exceed the average heart in sympathy, and with a SOUL far more concerned about others' wellbeing than his own safety, he would race straight toward the misfortuned. Either angle, Papyrus could do nothing but race toward the unseen commotion. As for Sans, he had no choice but to race behind him, cursing his brothers' long legs and physical fitness.

The slight downward slope of the hill steepened. Sans almost snowballed down the suddenly sharp angle, only barely managing to scuffle wildly rather than outright face plant. His tennis shoes dug into dirt. Still he skid. Past grass and flowers and thick tree trunks he found himself whisking, almost out of control; and yet Papyrus charged up ahead, necessity fueling his steps to greater speed. His brother flew as a shadow into deeper forest.

Behind his footsteps, Sans could hear a growing noise. He and Papyrus rushed straight into it.

They crashed into a surprisingly sizeable crowd. Papyrus nimbly danced around steel plates and shields, slowing down his feet while at the same time quickly speaking up to socialize. Sans' transition into the mob transpired less smoothly. He crashed straight into a suit of armor, gasped out an apology, bumped into another monster behind him, groaned, and then nearly fell to his knees from exhaustion. His chest and belly heaved from exertion; his body, accustomed to snacks and napping, rebelled about the exercise. He lost sight of Papyrus a short moment as he knelt over to put his palms on his knee caps.

The Royal Guard members shuffled about, hardly even noticing the addition of the two skeletons. Sans watched their boots nervously puff up dust. Murmurs swelled up, too; though he could not isolate a single sentence, the rising intonations in their voices betrayed questions and insecure uncertainty.

He pulled up his head to search for Papyrus. Papyrus had blended into the shadows of other skulls and helmets staring about them in awe. The village would have seemed much like Snowdin – small, wood-constructed, pointed-roof shacks; a single line of several shops; trees growing about the campus – yet it boasted one strange feature the monsters before had never experienced.

Sans suddenly realized it was not just a single crowd that milled in the village square. There were two.

As he sidled up to his brother's side, Papyrus whispered at an impressively loud frequency, "(SANS?)"

"(yeah?)"

"(ARE THOSE… HUMANS?)"

"(yes.)"

He answered the question as a declarative, though he felt some surprise within himself, too. These creatures were not what Sans had expected. Even after watching some online human videos and studying their illustrations in history textbooks, the three dimensional forms of a separate sapient species still caught him by surprise. They appeared as clones, all of them – the same mop of hair on their heads, the same fur-less faces, the same gawky four-limbed stance. Even their facial expressions all looked the same – small pupils hovering in the middle of widened eyes; jaws opened in shock; eyebrows raised to convey surprise.

They appeared to be babbling, too, and talking amongst themselves, just as the monsters were. Neither party seemed to know how to proceed. Monsters gestured and pointed; humans carefully pointed flashlights toward the guards; monsters nervously charged magic in their palms; humans fondled sleek, long tool in their hands – it was too dark to tell, but Sans suspected those were rifles.

Monster and human made eye contact across their ranks. Curiosity. Apprehension. Hesitation. Above the sound of a still-rising wind, Sans heard their voices. "What _are_ those things? Is that a fish?" "Where's Undyne when you need her?" "We can't be hallucinating, can we?" "What do we do?" "ASGORE wanted the war to continue, right? So do we just… uh…?" "Are they dangerous? What do we do?" "What do we" "He didn't give us orders to fight so I think we should just" "What do we" "No you're not hallucina" "Stay still. Maybe they won't" "What do" "Not sure what" "What do" "What" "Are you sure this is safe?" "What do we" "We've waited hundreds of years for this vengeance and now you" "Are we safe?" "What do we" "What do we"

 _"What do we do?"_

Some were approaching one another, as though at a social gathering, intent on greeting the other individual with a casual comment on the weather. A young human child stood not two feet away from a sleek-armored knight. The kid sucked on one thumb, clutched a stuffed rabbit in the other hand, and compared their toy with the long ears pointing out from the monster's steel helmet. Yet both sides shuffled uncomfortably, kept largely to themselves, and whispered to their like-species neighbors. Tension crackled over the simple village roofs.

Sans could realize now the Guards stood sans orders. ASGORE had sent them to the surface with little instruction and no preparation. Just as the king had foregone mentioning the status of the war on humans to the underground masses, so it appeared the king had opted not mention a word to his forces, either. "He didn't give any orders to attack…" Sans heard one monster murmur, while another, at the same time, whispered to their neighbor, "War's still on, right, bro?"

With discomfort, Sans noticed that most of the monsters in the crowd wore Royal Guard armor, while most of the humans brandished makeshift weapons and even a few pitchforks and firearms. If the monsters chose to act by ASGORE's old promise, this peaceful village would quickly become a battlefield.

A sense of urgency pricked Sans' neck. He glanced up to his brother with a frown, hoping Papyrus would notice Sans' expression and read the message. Sans wanted out. They needed out. Their introduction to humans could wait for another, less tedious time. A mob of Royal Guards standing at a mob of uncertain villagers hardly seemed safe.

At least no more magic bursts had shot into the night.

"papyrus," he whispered, still unable to catch his brother's attention. Papyrus stared, jaw slack, at the clusters of human. "papyrus, hey. bro?" No response. He nudged his brother's side. One elbow stab. A second one, more urgent. "let's say we get out of h –"

A collective living gasp overtook the wind for a moment, before it again howled over everyone, a loud and vicious tempest streaking through the trees. Humans and monsters staggered back in surprise. Sans, from his angle, spotted only lights shining up the sky. They danced over the Milky Way in bright ethereal rainbows. The Aurora Borealis? No, not the right time of year. What then…

He turned.

It was impossible to miss. The inconceivably mighty god-form of ASGORE DREEMURR strode over the treetops toward the village center. Each leg's circumference outgrew the base of pines; ASGORE's fists would have been too large to enter through a door. Behind him spread two enormous, leathery wings, flashing in a bright array of colors – orange and light blue and violet and red and cerulean and lime and gold. SOUL energy, the electric colors, SOUL energy of frightful and unparalleled power.

The wind was roaring now.

 _ASGORE will free us. ASGORE will save us all._

The humans had emerged from their houses, silent but tense, in nervous curiosity when the main contingent of Royal Guard soldiers had arrived. Not so threatened they had hid or run inside, they had instead slowly drawn themselves outdoors to investigate the situation. Fear they might have felt, but not the threat to their lives. Until now. Sans could see their postures change. At the nearing presence of ASGORE, they cringed, hunkering toward the earth, as though hoping a crumpled posture could hide them in the disrupted dark. Sans could certainly see the pitchforks and firearms now gleaming in the monster king's pulsating light. He heard nothing but quiet clicks and a muffled sob.

It would be too late to hide now.

"Holy shit," he might have heard someone murmur. Another. "Lord help us all."

ASGORE strode into the village and took his place alongside the monsters. The humans now trembled, some of them stirring, as though preparing to stampede. Voices rose up in increasing agitation – "Oh my god oh my god oh my god" "Fuck what is that thing" "I can't take it, I can't – I got to – we need to get out of…" "Shit" "Gonna die we're all gonna die."

ASGORE's voice boomed into the wind. He had been a bass before his physicak transformation. Now, ASGORE was thunder reincarnate, each syllable rumbling with a power that shook chest cavities and rattled the earth beneath their feet.

"Howdy."

Above the screams and sobs and whispers and questions – "What do we do?" – and desperate pleas – "We need to leave Dad we need to leave _now_ " – and prayers and moans and wailts and incomprehensible gibberish, came out a shout, "Don't take one step forward, you beast, or I'll hit ya between the eyes!"

Fear of his appearance would overshadow the meaning of his simple greeting.

The aggressive threat ricocheted through the valley. Echoing outcries arose from the opposing monster ranks, the Royal Guard jumbled together and swarming in a mass only marginally less settled than the fearful humans. Anger, rage, shock sparked through them. Voices became riled. "It was a genocide last time! And nothing's changed!" A magic spear forming in a raging tortoise's hands. "Is that what it is? Slaughter us again?!" Rising voices. Fear sparked. Very little would be needed to ignite the flame. A burst of orange magic again broke through the night like a firecracker. "Did we just come to the surface to die?"

Above the rising voices, Sans might have heard ASGORE's might grumble. "Now, now." What were the words after it? "Let's not get hasty"? No one heard.

An angry squall rose over it all.

 _ASGORE will free us. ASGORE will save us all…_

"papyrus! papyrus, we need to –"

"We're gonna die we're gonna –"

"ASGORE –"

"It's time to end this with human bl –"

A human challenger strode forward. Though thick, strong, and squat she stood, ASGORE could have squashed her with one step forward. Yet she stood with a boldness, a tenacity, and a courage brought on by desperation – cornered, now ready to attack. The humans could not flee. The monsters were raging against them. Their only chance now? To fight.

Hostilities cut clearly through the swarms. "Don't you take one step forward, 'cause I don't wanna do this neither."

Another's words shouted over hers. "Colleen, geddaway from it! Get – the – fuck – away! It ain't worth it!" a voice in the crowd exclaimed.

Was that a rifle she cradled in her arms? "You ha'n't forgotten those old graves in the graveyard, have ya?"

Stirring from both groups of shadows. Sans could see disturbance in the monsters' eyes. There were coffins back home in the underground, too: seven of them for seven human SOULs… and one golden flower – a coffin of its own – where the dust of a monster child had fallen.

"Remember why we buried 'em?"

Murmurs from monsters and humans.

"The old stories? Of a hell beast like this?"

The monsters had not forgotten the deaths of Chara and Asriel Dreemurr, princette and prince of the underground. The humans had not forgotten the deaths of their kind, either.

Rising shouts.

And ASGORE… once wincing… stiffened.

The death of his children would be all the reminder ASGORE needed to lower his head. No more would he gaze these humans eye-to-eye. No more would he bargain. No more would he waver. With regret, but memory of that ancient promise, a house-sized fist wrenched forth a trident five times as long as the human huts. Red magic glowed from tip to shaft, bathing every human, every monster, every tree, every house, in an unholy light. A color like human blood reflected from the godhead's teeth.

And still the monsters shouted. They had placed their trust in ASGORE. They had understood it could lead to war. Their shifting masses solidified into a hardened brick, pointing forth sword and spear at their sworn enemies.

Here it was. The battle for which they had been hoping for generations.

 _ASGORE will free us. ASGORE will save us all._

The human woman, this Colleen, drew in a breath. Sans could not read her face in the dark; he could only tell the shadows shifted. The firearm moved.

"Alright then. So be it."

Too late to hide.

Too cramped to flee.

Too tense to disperse.

The crack of a gun preceded a call to arms. Criess arose amongst the shout. "Come on, you cowards! Target's too big to miss! Fight for your lives! Fight you're your lives!"

The tempest _roared_.

So did ASGORE.

Every inch of the hillside erupted in magic. A thousand separate angry flames burst out from the center of the ground in an enormous ring, blasting the world into rainbow conflagrations. They overtook the stars, launched over treetops, set meadows and forests ablaze. Circling around ASGORE like satellites, they rose ever upward. Up, up, up. Past the moon. Around his trident. Across the human world.

Thus raged the wrath of a god.

He struck.

Screams. Bodies slammed into Sans. The pulsation of magic lights blinded – he could not see; he could not navigate. He crashed into a body, maybe human, maybe monster. Maybe even brother. He shoved them aside. Fear, knotting inside him, would take no chances. In chaos like this, collateral damage occurred. A peaceful stampede would trample a few members. In a tense body like this, someone almost certainly would die.

He could see spears rising up against the flashing lights. Magic glowed against magic. Swords lunged to fend off foes; both human and monster, on both sides of the blade, shrieked out. Flashlights snapped on from the human side in a frenzy, and with the bright lights came deafening cracks. Gunshots. It was no more a standstill. It was battle.

ASGORE swept over them all as his mighty wings knocked aside buildings. "There will be war!" Thor-like thunder. "War against humans and monsters!" A flash from his trident – lightning. "Royal Guard, get behind me! I will fight these humans off!"

Even now, ASGORE DREEMURR would protect his own and minimize dust-shed.

"All together now! While he's standing up!" An angry male voice followed by piercing cracks. More human shouts.

ASGORE stumbled backward.

"papyrus, papyrus!" When had Sans lost him? He swiveled his head, terror knotting his SOUL as he scanned the chaos for his baby brother. Rake smacked the side of a rabbit. Rapier lunged toward the chest of a man. "papyrus!" Flashes. Blinding lights. Motion, motion, motion, whites and blacks and blues and grays…

Sans finally found him. His brother stood, transfixed, staring at the main showdown. In the center of the village square stood their monarch champion and a host of rifle-wielding enemies. Blue flickered at the tips of Papyrus' right hand. It would not be a mere bone attack Papyrus contemplated. No. No, no, no, no, no.

He ran. Rushing up to his brother, Sans yanked on the safe left fingers, urging his brother, "c'mon, bro. let's scram. this is asgore's fight. not yours."

Magic flickered across his phalanges. Papyrus hesitated, clearly torn between duty and conscience. "AND THE ROYAL GU…"

"you're not in the royal guard. do you want to be dead?"

Not to mention Papyrus could be no killer. He had not the heart for it. Sans doubted his brother would be able to kindle the magic inside him any further; it would spark but not fully form into a wall of skulls.

A cloud of dust whisking through the wind.

The clash of wood cracking on armor.

"OKAY. MAYBE YOU'RE RIGHT FOR ONCE." The taller skeleton stumbled backwards as an enormous trident pierced black stormclouds. The world erupted into red. This was no aurora, but a paranormal light show of infinitely greater might. Death rained down in blood drops over the lap. Fear leaked in Papyrus' voice. "OH MY GOD, SANS, WHERE CAN WE GO!?"

They were rushing everywhere, humans and monsters. Some to flee. Some to fight. He could not see it all. The world flashed in confusing color.

Sans could only grab his brother's hand and stumble through the masses. Eyesockets scrunched, mouth opened in a soundless wail, he charged. Away. Away from the village. They had to make it.

Collision.

Sans shouted at the same moment Papyrus shot up a defense. Magic sparked blue. Bones forced back a pitchfork.

"SANS, COME ON!"

He forced himself to open his eyes and continue running. The world darkened from the painful flashes of a dozen monsters channeling magic. But the world still drowned in bloody red from ASGORE's long-ranged might.

"over here," he gestured quickly to a copse of junipers. "now squat down. they can't see us."

He had only wished to see the stars.

 _ASGORE will free us. ASGORE will save us all…_

If ASGORE did not save them now, everyone would die.

Bullets pounded against a magic screen. The king, too large and slow to dodge, bellowed in agony as every round hit. From the light of his magic, dust spewed in spurts from the injuries, yellow confetti snowing down on the streets. Orange dust dripped from his hands.

He lashed back. Fire. Horizontal flames of every hue. Blue and green and orange and white. He soaked the world in color.

Sans could hear the humans screaming, see them rear up, see them tumble desperately to the ground and roll to put out the flames. Some never had a chance. They burst up in torches. A moment later, unmoving charred trunks fell to earth, shattering upon impact.

Still more rounds of gunfire. "Fight for your lives!" Colleen's voice.

"SANS, SANS, I CAN'T WATCH!"

To his side, Papyrus was curled inward, a tight, shaking ball whose eyesockets had buried themselves in his shirt sleeves and whose knees were curled in toward his ribcage. The entire skeleton rocked back and forth, moaning.

Unfortunately, while Papyrus could not watch, Sans _could_. He could not turn his eyesockets aside.

Carnage.

A god raining judgment on sinners. Several generations later, the death of Asriel repaid.

"Help me!" a human wail. Sans could not help them.

"It's now or never! Kill or be killed!"

Crack, crack, crack…


	21. 19: Leakage

**19\. Leakage**

 _[[File 19.1 CO]]_

She finally answered her goddamned phone, though she stuttered so terribly she could hardly be understood. Even as someone well-trained in interpreting Alphys' stutter, he had to concentrate closely in order to comprehend. It did not help how his emotions overpowered him. How they rushed through him, stung his eyesockets, tightened his ribcage. He did not know whether to sob or scream or bottle it in. In the fluctuation of angry mourning, he barely heard her near-imperceptible stammer. "S-S-S-S-Sans? D-do y-y-you, um, n-n-need someth-thing?"

It registered late, but he caught it. As soon as he did, he clenched his teeth and tightened his grip on the phone. He almost struck out at the sock in his room with a blaster.

She knew. She knew. The damned Royal Scientist knew – there would be no other reason for her to stammer so badly except she _knew_.

It only fueled him more. "i've got a question for ya. should be easy to answer." He ground his teeth. "you've been watching the human, right? heh, not because it's your _job_ or anything." Bitterness sliced through his words, but at this moment in time, he could not care how bitter he came across. If anything, perhaps the harshness would convince Alphys to finally act.

He received silence on the other end of the cell.

"or am i wrong…?" More seething hisses.

"N-n-no, I've been – I've been watching," she shakily confirmed.

"with microwave popcorn and a can of soda?"

"I-I-I-I uhhh…." He could almost hear her sweating on the other side of the receiver. "Uh, m-maybe after watching them on a s-s-screen for a while, I…" Strange noises on the other end of the receiver might have been her nervously shuffling, maybe even half-dropping the phone. Did he _actually_ hear the crinkle of a popcorn bag? Oh my god. She babbled. "I mean, I mean… I'm so sorry Sans I'm so sorry I didn't think anything like this would happen I should have listened to your warnings but I mean I didn't think our research would go this I…"

He cut her off with a verbal stab. "welp. it did."

"Sans…" the word squeaked at a higher pitch than a mouse "…th-th-this was y-your idea… I-I mean it doesn't make what happened any better, and if you…"

"stop it," he said.

"What?"

"stop it all. we can't do this. the human can't be allowed to…"

"Sans?"

It was good she could not see the state of his room. Of the bones stabbing into the mattress, piercing into the drawers, even boring through the ceiling. Everything had been torn apart. _He_ had torn everything apart.

 _this is my fault._

He couldn't say anything.

He couldn't think anything.

A headache overwhelmed… emotions overpowered that… he could not think he could not think he could not…

"Sans, we both know that we have t-to let the human pass. N-n-no matter what choices they m-make, they're the only ones who can reset the timeline. You told me yourself. The only motivation they'll get comes when they reach the end of thei…"

"alphys, he's dead!" It wasn't even bitter backstabbing now. It was outright shouting. When had he ever done that? But when had he ever experienced something like _this_? "don't you get it? he's fucking dead because of me!"

"I'm sorry, I –"

He did not hang up the phone. He threw it to the wall.

 _so this is what became of gaster's great research,_ he thought in bitterness, slumping against his door. No need to shut it – his brother would not come knocking on it now. His brother would knock on anything now. How could this happen? How could he let this happen? _nothing but a repeated time loop of hells i can't forget._

* * *

 _[[File 19.2 GA]]_

 **A/N: Scene not written. I jotted a note for what I planned to write:**

[Sans, Rain, and Gaster bonding moment with Rain drawing – actually it's when Gaster is happy to chat about the differences.]

* * *

 _[[File 19.3 GA]]_

The evidence was piling up, and its verdict did not make Sans smile.

Perhaps "piling" was the incorrect term to use. The proof of Gaster's prolific time travel activity did not manifest in towers, stacks, or anything else growing. Rather, it revealed itself by… melting.

After receiving a third research report spattered in a thin, goopy film, Sans could no longer deny Rain's claim. Gaster was, indeed, _leaking_ , as though the tips of his fingers turned liquid and dripped like a faucet on anything he touched. No matter what sort of extraordinary revelation headed the contents of Gaster's latest discovery, Sans and his mechanic companion concerned themselves more with the presence of the goop.

"Your intern friend, Alphys? Is she – by any chance – a biologist?"

"nope, sorry, rain. mechanical engineer and physicist, like you. no _bio_ logy in her _bio_. though… come to think of it… she mighta dabbed a bit in the life sciences as an undergrad?"

"Maybe that'll be enough. Could she at least run some simple tests on this sticky gunk on my lab report – discretely as possible?"

A few weeks and five stammering sentences later, Alphys returned with a DNA test proving the substance on Rain's paper matched Gaster's living tissue.

"S-s-s-something's going on, isn't it?" she asked with a wrinkle-faced wince.

"just another prank." Yet there had been no pranks for quite a few months now. Gaster could not deign himself to such nonproductive nonsense, not when he had infinite parallel universes to explore and conquer. The last time Sans had attempted to dunk Gaster's office in socks, the Royal Scientist had almost thrown a fit. A _real_ fit, not his usual bemused exasperation. Something about time being of the essence, how anything outside of work constituted a complete waste of time and energy.

Gaster worked hard… but usually not _that_ hard.

Something was up.

Then there were the unusual number of syringes lying on Gaster's floor. The Royal Scientist pulled his chair close to his desk and stretched his feet across the area to hide them, yet Sans noted their presence anyway. So did Rain. Gaster, unaccustomed to being a liar, feigned casualness incredibly poorly, and struggled to hide even obvious evidence of his overproductive endeavors.

 _how often is he going back in time? how many syringes does this guy need?_

It was the official document in the trash, though, that gave Sans the most concern.

He should not have picked it up. Should not have unfolded it across the desk when the Royal Scientist was absent. But he did anyway. Gaster never wadded something up, after all… it was unlike him to do anything except neatly shred official documents. Call it worry, call it suspicion, call it nosing around… he pulled the crumpled sheet out of the wastebasket and read the first line of printed text.

 _MARITAL SETTLEMENT AGREEMENT._ _This agreement serves as a complete, final settlement for all matters regarding the dissolution of the marriage between Wings Dings Gaster and…_

With shock and no little guilt, Sans hastily recrumpled the paper and shoved it deep into the waste basket.

Maybe he could excuse Gaster for overworking with happenings like this.

* * *

 _[[File 19.4 GA]]_

 **A/N: Scene not fully written. Material I was planning to expand upon is described in brackets.**

He spied the syringe in W. D. Gaster's hand and winked. Though Gaster had half-hidden the item between his fingers, pulling the sleeve of his lab coat well over his knuckles, Sans could not mistake the tool and its purpose.

 _"going somewhen?"_ he inquired.

 _"Please spare the drivel, Sans,"_ Gaster responded, completely unamused by Sans' joking query. The doctor did not even slow as he marched through the halls; if anything, Gaster's sleek black shoes clomped faster through the laboratory. If he marched any more rapidly through the hallways, he would be trotting. However, the Royal Scientist did at least deign to explain to Sans his lack of attention. His hands flowed rapidly through signs. _"I have experienced this instance of the timeline before, and you signed the exact same words in the exact same way. There is no need for me to see those words again. I could probably predict each statement you make before you give it, though frankly, I find that of little interest, and of no use for my latest research pursuits. I have no desire to experience the same instance of my life on repeat."_

Sans, attempting to brush off the unfriendly retort, shrugged and slipped his hands into his lab coat pockets. However, he did not leave Gaster's company; as the scientist continued to march down the hallway and toward the main elevator, his shorter, younger skeletal companion pursued him. As innocent as Sans' initial question had seemed, Sans had entered the conversation with far greater goals. There was information he needed to know. The sooner the better.

Gaster's shoulders slumped when he realized he could not avoid the other scientist. Exhaling heavily and turning about, Gaster faced Sans. _"I gather you want something?"_ he asked.

 _"an answer to my question would be nice."_

 _"What questi–"_ Gaster's hands dropped before he could finish the sign. He apparently just remembered the question Sans had brought up – of where in time he appeared to be headed. _"Very well then."_ With carefully controlled composure, the Royal Scientist responded, _"I am returning to the laboratory in the CORE to stock this syringe with the others Rain has produced."_ No time travel jump for now, it was implied.

But Sans pointed out, _"the syringe is empty."_ The pointy bone tip of his finger arrowed in on the evidence. _"it'd be full if you had just hopped to a new timeline. but you just applied the syringe… meaning you're about to make a jump. a new one. a new timeline. a new something or other. why's that such a big deal you can't tell me?"_

 _"There's no purpose informing you,"_ responded Gaster. The elevator let out a flash of light, the doors open, and Gaster lingered at the periphery. He could have simply marched into the lift and let the door shut on Sans, but even with his irritation, he allowed the conversation to continue. Gaster placed his hands on the inside of the elevator frame to prevent the door from shutting without him.

 _"yeah? because you want to do everything yourself?"_

Gaster's hand lifted off the door frame to respond, _"NO."_ He sighed, then elaborated, _"Once I make the jump back in time to the parallel universe, you will not remember this conversation. This timeline will indeed, so far as I am concerned, cease to exist in entirety. Therefore, it is of no point to me to inform you of the purpose or nature of my time travel, being as it will come to no productive end."_

 _"then how will i –"_

Perhaps this conversation had also come before, for Gaster impatiently jumped into a new explanation, reading Sans' thoughts.

 _"I_ will _inform you when my experiences reap pertinent and beneficial data, as well as ascertain that you retain the information even as I continue to SAVE and research timeline possibilities. I will debrief you in my next timeline hop about my latest plan. Right after the meeting, I will make a new SAVE so that all my subsequent accessible timelines retain that meeting in the past. Then, I will each month do as much research as I can. If the month is unproductive and no useful information found, I will return back in time and repeatedly relive that month ad infinitum until I find something relevant to my studies. With a new discovery, I will create a new SAVE point and repeat the process."_

Sans began to suspect that Gaster had been sneaking off with empty syringes for a long while now. At least, long as far as the doctor's own personal remembered chronology was concerned.

 _"god, wow. how many times have you gone back in time?"_

 _"Those records are private until they are ready to be made public."_

 _"that's one dumb answer."_ Sans shrugged. He remembered why he had approached Gaster in the first place. He targeted back into task. _"like a lot of your answers."_ Before Gaster could protest he had just divulged a lot of information, Sans pressed onward, _"you've told me some things. cool. i guess. but, you still haven't answered my first important question about –"_

 _"I said I had no need to divulge that information."_

 _"not even for, say, health reasons?"_

Gaster frowned.

 _"tut tut, looks like rain. you know you're dripping, right?"_

A few fingers twitched at Gaster's sides. That might not have been noticed by most individuals, but for Gaster, that was the equivalent of shouting in astonishment.

Sans, squinting, signed, _"that's what i thought."_

Gaster's hand slipped out of sight into his laboratory jacket pocket, but he had to take it out again to sign. He acted fairly collected even as something like water trickled down his palm. _"I admit my carelessness caused one of the syringes to rupture. I thought I had properly cleaned the substance off my fingers, but some of it must still be dripping from my sleeves. If you will excuse me, I will see to cleanup immediately."_

 _"will you fix your dripping jawline, too? quite the rupture, boss. almost looks like it's making you melt. but that's not what's happening. is it? you didn't inject_ two _full vials into you, im sure, and they're not doing_ anything _bad to your body."_

The two researchers stood, face-to-face, peering at their adversary in an attempt to outflank the opponent. However, there could be no denying Gaster's current physical deformity; as though turning to liquid, half of his jawline had begun oozing toward his neck. His left chin would soon be melding with his collarbone beneath the laboratory jacket. Gaster's fingers, in little better condition, appeared more like knobby candles, burnt one too many times, and covered in waxy lumps. Some of the phalanges had four joints, some fix, some six, some three. No wonder Gaster had of late opted to wear turtlenecks beneath his laboratory coat.

 _"hey, gaster, you've helped me through a lot,"_ Sans said, signing gently. _"let's be real. i would've thrown in the towel by now without your mentorship and motivation. you're a great guy and real dang smart. and thoughtful. and considerate. you showed me how to use your blasters. that was a lot of time and training there. then you taught me more about physics than any of the lab rats on my dissertation's examination board, too._

 _"only thing is… you don't seem to know how to chill. you're going at this way too hard and you're going to crash. from the state of your hands and your face, looks like you're already in that process. …no offense…_

 _"this isn't new news."_ Sans motioned toward Gaster's misshaped hands. Even now, a drop slipped off the ring finger. Self-consciously, the Royal Scientist clasped both hands behind his back, safely out of view. _"it's not even old news. it's the opposite of news. olds? it's old olds. rain and i've suspected for a while. hard to hide your gooping all the time. even if you hide it ninety percent of the time, a p value of 0.1's still pretty big."_

Gaster shook his head. This answer would not suffice, however. Once again, he was forced to pull his deformities back into view. The hands came out from behind his back. _"It is a minor and temporary setback,"_ the Royal Scientist explained, _"of no danger to me nor anyone else. Once I make the time jump, I lose all unwanted physical symptoms and return to a completely solid state."_

 _"it bothers you, doesn't it?"_

No response.

 _"can i ask you a question?"_

No response.

 _"are you working hard because things aren't going as planned? or is it because things aren't going as planned that you're working hard?"_

No response.

 _"or is it one big vicious circle?"_

 _"We're done here,"_ said Gaster. _"Personal business is not the concern of my employees."_

But before Gaster could turn aside and finish the conversation, Sans interjected one more comment.

 _"'it's always important to fight for each other'. that's what you told me once, isn't it? more than once, even. but i remember the first time you did it. it was at the café when you first learned my parents had fallen down and i was taking care of my brother alone."_

[Sans point out Gaster's doing the same mistake Sans did back then]

Sans had Gaster's attention. The Royal Scientist had stilled completely. He did not even drip as he attentively watched Sans' hands

The elevator door had shut during their conversation, but he jammed the button again now. Even though Gaster charged inside the lift and turned aside from Sans, a small dribble of the Royal Scientist remained on the door.


	22. 20: Puzzle

**20\. Puzzle**

 _[[File 20.1 IH-20150701-#-#]]_

Sans could not believe he had agreed to this.


	23. 25: Success Part 2

**25\. Success Part 2**

 **A/N I had planned there to be four chapters between "Puzzle" and "Success Part 2"; there were not even drafts written for these moments.**

 **Material I planned to write within this chapter is described in parentheses.**

"Sans, you haven't happened to see Gaster this afternoon, have you?"

Rain poked his head into Sans' office. At least, he tried, best as he could. With the extraordinary volume of papers and textbooks crammed into the quarters, Rain could barely find room for his forehead, much less his entire face.

Sans barely found room to rotate himself in his office chair toward the door. "naw, haven't seen 'im all day."

"Strange. His office door's locked, and he always leaves it open when he's around… and no one else in the laboratory has heard word of him…"

"maybe check the office anyway?"

"Just… barge on in? Uhhh… you're coming with me if you try that."

[Sans and Rain step in and realize that all the shots have disappeared and there's a note to his ex-wife on the desk]

"shit!" In the time it took him to shout that one expletive, Sans had launched himself out the door and halfway down the hall. "he's gonna do it! idiot's going back five hundred years _today_!"

[they try to reason with Gaster but he just shuts them off]

He raced ahead of them.

 _"gaster, no! gaster, don't do it! gaster, pay attention to me!"_

He could feel the power of godlike magic sucking him into the center of a vortex.

It was Gaster. Gaster melting. Gaster melting on the floor.

He had to reach him.

Had to –

* * *

 **A/N: There was going to be lots more material in here I unfortunately never wrote. It would start with a more typical narrative structure. Different moments across different timelines would be flashing through this scene, showing Gaster shattering across all points of time and space. Sans would be trying to rush out to save Gaster. Things would become increasingly weirder, both in what was being described, and how the prose described said material. Eventually the scene and writing would completely break down, leading to:**

* * *

[[File]]

Blue. Red. Gold. Blue. Red. Gold. 11 Everywhere run, blue and red and gold, and the blue dying to the red, and the gold rushing up, and then bl…

* * *

[[File]]

Charging, charging forward, charging forward 44 another step –

* * *

[[File]]

Tangles of vines, 222 tangles of vines reaching out. Red-tipped thorns reaching like constrictors – a noose – a noose tightening %5555%55 – fight, fight, fight – one step forward – forward another 222 step –

* * *

[[File]]

Gaster! Gaster melting!

Alarms blaring.

Run, run forw–

* * *

[[File]]

Blue Red Go-ld&.

* * *

[[File]]

Had to ,#ke3ep running. Had to keep[{P moving. Gaster, Gaster, he was gfggoing to –

* * *

[[File]]

Tor44rents to# rr-ents# a torrent of dddust a ==+sandsstststorm a storm of

* * *

[[File]]

M33eltinngngg, mel33tyyiunghh gg-g-g-ga ste3r4 w-was m-ellttti- - -

* * *

[[File]]

S33erggnpetnt 4rrmmms ser44pennt a rms c00mInGngg outtt

* * *

[[File]]

A scream through the clarity. Scream of dying –

* * *

[[File]]

rush rush race race…

* * *

[[File]]

blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red gold blue red!

* * *

[[File]]

You cannot give up you must save him there's still a chance so long as you reach out your hand! _blue… y_ ou've finally made it to the center of the room you have no idea what's going on you don't understand the flashing images you don't understand anything _red…_ but you know you've reached the center of the room and that's all that matters because here in the center of the room is the machine here in the center of the room is Gaster and whatever's happened you've made it you're finally here you've reached the end of the chaos _gold…_ so it's time to stop the machine it's time to pull him out from the vortex it's time to save his life _blue… red… gold._

But for all you've run this far you're not sure what to do you're not sure what comes next is it safe to turn off the machine _blue_ he's being wrenched apart you can see it you can see it through his screaming eyes the terror the pain he's being wrenched apart _red_ you can hear the shrieks of his voice he can't hear them but you can hear them and it's wrenching you apart the pain the magic it's wrenching you apart _gold_ but you've come so far! _blue_ you must be able to save him it's not like anything can get worse anything you do will at least be SOME way to try _red_ it will give him some chance to be saved _gold_ some possibility you can save him _blue_ you can save him _red_ you can save him _gold_ just reach out your hand and reach for the machine and reach for him _blue_ and you _red_ can save him _gold._

but turning off the machine does nothing.

 _blue_

he's still being sucked in.

 _red._

you can see his face cracking, the skull cracking in two.

 _gold._

you can see the timelines pulling him into the center of the maw _blue_ and the timelines are what's pulling him apart _red_ the only way to save him is to grab his hand _gold_ and pull him _blue_ pull him _red_ pull him _gold_ pull him out of the center of the void _blue_ and back _red_ into the safety _gold_ of this room _blue red gold_ of this dimension _blue red gold_ that is how you can save him.

reach – out – your – hand!

 _blue red gold_

it's his only chance…

 _blue_ plunging out a hand _red_ reaching out and screaming _gold_ even though he can't _blue_ hear _red_ but he can see _gold_ he can see your face as you're reaching out _blue_ and then _red_ eyesocket meets eyesocket _blue_ you can see him crumbling _red_ you can see him crumbling there before you _gold_ you can't reach him he's too far away he's being pulled away by the vacuum _blue_ fingertips apart _red_ fingertips not touching _gold_ he's going to fly away _blue_ he's being _red_ pulled _gold_ pulled away from you you're going to lose him…

you must save _blue_ him _red_ you must reach _gold_ him you must _blue_ stop _red_ the machine it's going to _gold_ kill him _blue_ it's already _red_ killing him _gold_ no but it can't be too late it can't _blue_ be too late to _red_ save him you must reach him _gold_ you must you must _blue_ it's his only chance _red_ it's the only _gold_ way he _blue_ might survive _red_ you refuse _gold_ you refuse to admit _blue_ that it's too late _red_ it's too late _gold_ too late to save _blue_ too late to save him _red_ but you're reaching out _blue_ you're reaching out your hand _red_ you don't know where _blue_ you don't know why _red_ you don't know how _gold_ and magic _blue_ magic flows _red_ magic flows through you _gold_ magic _blue_ of greater power _red_ than any _gold_ you've _blue_ ever carried _red_ it's your SOUL _blue_ it's your SOUL and its passion _red_ the SOUL acts _gold_ as _blue_ it wills _red_ and the SOUL _blue_ wills _red_ his life _gold_ the SOUL wants him _blue_ alive _red_ the SOUL _gold_ needs _blue_ him _red_ alive _gold_ you cannot _blue_ cannot imagine _red_ image a life _gold_ without _blue red blue red_ him _gold_ he's your mentor he's your mentor he's your oldest friend dammit dammit you have to hold on you have to hold on you have to hold onto him you've got to try!

reach _blue_ out _red_ a _gold_ hand _blue_ try _red_ to _gold_ reach _blue_ try _red_ to _gold_ save _blue_ must _red_ save _gold_ him _blue_ red _gold_ must _blue_ save _red_ must _gold_ reach _blue_ but _red_ can't _red_ can't _blue_ reach _red_ all _blue_ bright _red_ world _red_ reels _black_ world _red_ fades _red_ world _black_ dies _black_ hand _black_ gone _black_ melts _black_ hand _black_ melts _black_ the _black_ hand _black_ melts _gold_ shatters _black_ all _gold_ shatters _black_ scream _red_ of _blue_ the _red_ dying _red_ he _black_ bursts _red_ in _black_ shards _gold_ burst _gold_ then _black_ all _black_ the _black_ world _black_ goes _black_ dark _black_ and _black_ turns _blue red gold blue red gold blue red blue red blue red_ black…

* * *

[[File]]

black…

* * *

[[File]]

black…

* * *

[[File]]

bbrrffllllaacckkk…

* * *

[[File]]

bb 44llllaacc444#kkk...

* * *

[[File]]

bbbb 233#35lllllaaavvddccckkk##3222 2

* * *

[[File]]

bbb 4443321aagggeecc#bbbbllllaa#cckkkkkkkhh#553

* * *

[[File]]

adgaoeingaoirnahoerinha;oeirnhaoirjafioejgawoiengaoirnhoeirnhaiofjaeoignaoeinaoeringaoirnhaoerignaoeijfaso;igarojjfffffdafeoginaoeignoidndddaoeignaoegillllbbbboaeingoainbbbleaeoinoiengoinagoineafeoaigoin;goaienoineoinofineoinoinoibbbiboinaoeinoijjjjkoeianoefjlllllllllllbbaoefinaeoinefobbbbbbaoeifnaoeinbbbbbllllldddaewddddddbbbbbaeoinadddddddbbbbblllaefoeing-aeofinaeofindddddddbbae;fbbo;aiengoienag;oinaaaaaaabbbbb-aefaoeifndddddddaeo;inaoeindddddddddddbbbbbbbbbbbblllaefianeoign-bbaoinaoeifnbbbbbbbaefbbbbbbddddddlllllllllllllllaefaabbbbblaefaobbbbbbbbdddddddddlllllianeobbbbbbbbbbbdddddddddbbblbbblllldfaeglbbbbbllllddddddaoinbblbbllllddargoainroallllaefalllldafeginoaaalllldddlbbaefbbbbbbbbbbbbbbddddddddddddddddbbbbbbbbbbb-bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbllllllllllllbbbbbbbbb-bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbdddddddd-bbb-bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbdddddddddddddddkkkkkk-k-k-kkkkkkkkkkkkkddddddddd-ddddbbbbdd-dddddddddbbbbll-dddlddd-d-ddddd-ddddbbbblld-dd-d-d-d-b-bbbbbbbbkd-d-d-ddddddb-b-bbbbkddd-b-bbb-b-bbbb-d-ddddddd-bb-kkklll-k-d-dddd-d-d-d-dd-ddddd-b-bbb-bbb-bb-bbbbb-d-d-b-d-b-h-hhh-h-h-h-hh-h-hhh-hh-hhh-h-h-h-b-b-b-b-b-d-d-d-dd-d-dddd-b-b-d-b-db-b-hh-h-d-h-h-l-h-h-h-kk-k-k-k-k-k-k-l-l-l-l-lll-l-l-l-l-l-l-ll-l-ll-hhddd-b-d-b-bbb-b-b-bbb-b-b-b-hh-h-h-hhh-h-h-h-h-h-kk-k-kkk-k-k-k-d-bb-b-b-bbb-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-h-hhh-h-h-hhh-hhhhh-h-hh-h-h-bbbbb-b-bbb-b-bbbbb-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-bb-b-hh-bbb-b-h-h-b-h-h-b-dddd-d-d-d-d-d-d-dd-d-d-d-d-d-b-b-b-b-b-b-=b-b==b-b-=b-b====b-b-====b-b-b======b-b-b=-===-=-bb-b-b=-b==-b-b-b======-b=-b=-=-===-b=-=-bbb-b-===-b-b====-b-b===b-b-==b-b-b-b-b-b-====-==-====hbbbhhhb=====-==-bb-b-=-bb-b-b-b-b-b-h-h-h-d-b-b-d-b-b-d-h-==========-=========b===-k-d-k-k-======-=-=-bb-========-b-==========-b-b-b-bb-=============b=====-b-==============-b-=======b==========-b-============-b-b-b-b-b-==========-=========bb-======b=========-b-b-=====================b-======================================================bbbb-=========-b-b-h-h-h-=======b=================-================h==============-=-=====-h-===============-h-=================================-==========h==========================-h===================================================================================================================-h-========================================-============================h=========================================================================================h=-hh-hh-h-===========================================================================================================================================================================-h-x-===============================================================================================================================================================x====================================================================================================================================================================================================x-=========================================================x=====================================================================================================================================================-x-x-x-…..…

…

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	24. PART TWO: MIND

**PART TWO: MIND**

 **A/N: Because I hadn't finished Part 1, all work on Part 2 is very sketchy, incomplete, unedited, and explorative.**


	25. 26: HP

**26\. HP**

 _[[File 21.1 SA]]_

"I think he's awake."

The words emerged from foggy uncertainty, one shocking slap of clarity amidst a world of muddled noises. Sounds… sounds he thought he should recognize. All was hazy void.

Something clopping. Something responding. A voice of some monster. Could not hear the words. Mind swimming in colloidal nothingness.

He forced himself to open an eyesocket. Groaned at piercing brightness. Shut it again.

A sluggish thought. _where am i?_

Tried to listen through the unwilling mud of a lethargic mind.

"SANS?"

Even while drowning in a mental mire, he recognized the voice.

He processed something, slowly. _my brother's right above me._

Once more he sought to open his eyesockets. Painful bright light lasered into him again. However, after blinking desperately, vision slowly acclimated to the environment – mostly, anyway. The world appeared strangely flat and non-dimensional. Whatever. Sometimes the body stubbornly refused to cooperate when one woke from a deep sleep, and all Sans currently cared about was that he no longer winced as he peered about the room.

He did, however, pause in shock at the images.

 _i'm… in a hospital?_

 _what had…?_

And then it all came crashing back to him.

He immediately wished he were unconscious again.

"SANS?" spoke his brother a second time. Papyrus did indeed hover over Sans, eyesockets wide, jaw clenched in a worried frown, finger bones nervously fiddling about one another. It appeared his brother would not allow him to lapse into unconsciousness. Not right away, at least.

 _how long has he been here, waiting for me to take up?_ Sans would not have expected it of him. Since when had he and Papyrus been close? Eleven years apart… one brother an academic workaholic, the other a spirited athlete… the two only rarely coinciding in the same room… it did not make for a deep sibling connection.

And yet… here Papyrus stood, standing worriedly over him, fatigue smudging his eyesockets and suggesting he had been waiting for quite some time. _wow._ Touched… Sans felt touched.

"heya bro," he croaked in a gravelly voice unaccustomed to speech.

"OH MY GOD! PPPPHHHEW! ! ! YOU'RE OKAY! !" Relief passed through Papyrus' face. "HE _IS_ OKAY, ISN'T HE, NURSE?"

Only now did Sans notice the third monster in the room. Leaning unobtrusively in the back with a clipboard, the nurse seemed content to watch uninterfering with the sibling reunion. They maintained their black and white diamond face strictly on their medical notes. However, upon being prompted with a question, they stood straighter, looked Papyrus in the eyesocket, and responded. The words came out in a slightly uncertain jumble. "H-he's... stable."

Not precisely the most comforting reply.

The vague, uncertain statement nevertheless ameliorated Papyrus' tensions. His neck jerked up straighter and he hooted with a smile, "WONDERFUL! ! I KNEW HE'D BE ALRIGHT!" He appeared ready to begin dancing at the news he falsely perceived as positive.

But Sans squinted at the nurse. He could not be so simply fooled. _what the hell happened after i passed out? i feel… fine…?_

"alright," he grumbled, in no mood to listen to rose-tinted euphemisms. "spit it out. what is it?"

The medic shifted. They rubbed their back against the wall for a long while, and if they had not been awkwardly clearing their throat, they might have appeared to be trying to itch a hard-to-reach spot near the spine. At last, stepping forward, the nurse gestured to Sans with both their hands. Easing into it, they questioned, "Uhhh… so… how do you… feel?"

"head's a little muddled, vision isn't perfect, but other than that, i'm dandy."

"Really?" The single word inflected up with astonished interest.

With no little irritation, Sans drawled back, "can ya tell me why that's a big surprise?"

"Well. We've never… seen anything like it." _great start._ More useless, meaningless hand gestures. "When you came out of the CORE, you were losing HP rapidly."

"makes sense. i was injured." How injured, he could not recount, yet if it landed him in the hospital, waking up seemingly a long time later, this indicated the injury had been significant.

And yet the nurse disagreed with Sans' assessment. "N-n-n-no, n-no, not like that.

"You said you feel… fine? Like you've been healed?"

"sure. like i've got full hp."

"Well… you've got one."

At first, the statement sounded like semantic gibberish. It could not be parsed, could not be comprehended. Then Sans' gut dropped. _no… they can't mean that, can they?_ Seeking clarification, he asked, somewhat slowly, "ok. one… what?"

Gravely: "One HP."

 _what the hell?_ Aloud, his voice remained calm and smooth. Pulling up a smirk, Sans might as well have been accounting a joke rather than delving for pertinent medical information. "damn, that can't be right. you sure your equipment's functioning properly? i don't feel like i'm on the brink of death. my hp's fuller than that."

"I guess… your HP _is_ full?"

"but you just said i had one hp left. out of three-twenty. three-twenty's my full health."

"No, you don't have three hundred and twenty Hit Points. That's what I mean. You have _one_."

"one… total?" _what the fucking_ hell _!?_

"Y-yes."

He stared around the room, at the pristine white equipment; the unused chairs; the nurse; his frowning, straight-backed brother. Though sunlight still streamed into the room through cracked shades, though he could hear birds chirruping in the distance, though nothing had changed in sound or sight or smell or touch… the world suddenly seemed… different. A different sort of cloudiness overtook him. His mind buzzed more sharply than ever but… the realization – the _realization_ – of what had happened to him… it fogged his experiences in another sense. The world felt static, still. Reality distant and flat. His emotions… no. No. He would not let himself feel any emotion. Those were flat, too.

" As s-s- – as I s-said, you came out of the C-CORE and l-lost HP. As in, you weren't being drained of HP. You were – i-it's that your maximum was lowering."

The words, the meaning, the consequences settled in. He could feel his eyesockets blacken.

His speech came out cold and emotionless. He could not show emotion before his brother. Not when the emotion threatened to dam tears up behind his eyesockets. He felt uncomfortable enough with Papyrus' astonished gaping; he needed not add worse sentimentality by allowing waterworks to flow down cheekbones.

"something i would have barely noticed before – like, say, stubbing my foot against a chair leg – is now… lethal?"

"Maybe not something that inconsequential, but yes. A broken arm. A fractured hip. A single magic bullet. All of those would be…" The nurse's voice trailed off, but Sans filled in the rest of the sentence. He and his conversant allowed the unspoken word to float like a ghost throughout the room. It danced across the hospital bed, the equipment monitoring Sans' vitals, the other awkward skeleton standing in the room.

 _how the hell did this happen?_

He choked around a single word. He was not one for much swearing, but the time certainly called for it. "shit."

"SANS, WATCH YOUR LANGUAGE," Papyrus moaned, at the same time chewing on his distal phalanges. Papyrus finally comprehended the situation's gravity and seemed ready to cry.

"heh." Dammit, but Sans could feel the tears overflowing his own eyesockets. A single drop slipped from the left side. Hastily, Sans pulled up his left hand, closed the one eyesocket, and scrubbed away the tear.

"oh my _god_." The entire world had descended into darkness. Complete darkness. His left hand dropped immediately to his side and he shot both eyesockets open wide immediately. The room snapped back into vision – perhaps the image coming in flat, but at least it was present. "what the _fuck_ is wrong with my right eye?"

He whirled toward the medic, seething. "when were you planning on telling me? holy shit! i'm blind, aren't i?"

Wordless nod.

"and it's not gonna heal, is it?"

Wordless headshake 'no.'

Sans sat back. Suddenly, his imperfect vision made sense. Without binocular vision, his depth perception would be limited. This was the best he would ever be able to see.

"might want to try telling your patient all his health updates, right? how 'bout you try that one?" He knew he was being unfair, but the bitterness escaped anyway. "so. let's go for it. anything… _else_ … i need to know?" As if he actually wanted to know.

"The doctor will update you with all the details later today. But no, there is nothing else big to mention."

"ok." He settled into a sullen lump on the hospital bed. Though he tried not to close his eyesockets, tried not to think of anything, he could feel the right side of his face burning. "cool, i guess."

Left eyesocket flared blue. Only the left. The right was dead.

Papyrus stared upon his brother with troubled concern.

"fuck."

Thankfully, Papyrus did not scold his brother a second time about his word selection. The taller skeleton lingered, surprisingly wordless, along the side of the bed. Only when the nurse announced they were leaving did Papyrus respond with a mumble, and then he might as well have forgotten the third individual had ever existed in the room.

"SO…" Papyrus sighed, looking downward, "I GUESS THIS MEANS YOU'RE SLIGHTLY NOT OKAY, HUH!?"

Sans almost expected to hear a "NYOO HOO HOO" at the end of the comment. In truth, Sans nearly supplied the sob himself.

What a disaster.

Though this experience was already nightmare enough, Sans forced himself to ask another question. He feared this question far more than anything he had asked the nurse… but needed to know. He _had_ to know, even if he feared the truth.

"hey, papyrus," he said quietly. "the others. how are the others? it wasn't just me in the core, y'know."

"I DIDN'T HEAR EVERYTHING, BUT I'M SURE ALMOST EVERYONE IS SUPER! SPLENDID! ABSOLUTELY SPECTACULAR! ! ! THEY'RE SURFING THE WAVES OF A SAFE AND SECURE EXISTENCE IN THE OCEAN OF LIFE! EXCEPT FOR GASTER. AND…"

"he's dead, isn't he?" Sans bit his teeth at the "d" word.

A stammer. "Y-YES. YES. HE IS."

 _i couldn't reach him in time…_

"rain?"

"HE'S VERY ALIVE…"

"good."

"…SORT OF."

Though it would mean masking vision – something Sans did not wish to think about now – he buried his face in his hands. He rubbed at his forehead for a long while, leaning in, attempting to process the news. He felt himself rocking from his seated position. Face still in hands, he mumbled, "…what do you mean?"

"I… I DON'T KNOW."

He could hear the sincerity in Papyrus' voice, so Sans allowed the information to slide. He would learn soon enough Doctor Rain Pearson's fate.

In the meantime, he lingered, feeling utterly helpless, on the hospital bed.

He could not hold back the tears any longer.

At least Papyrus held him while he sobbed.

* * *

 _[[File 21.2 SA]]_

[Sans and Rain's artwork?]

* * *

 _[[File 21.3 SA]]_

[Sans sees rain for the first time – maybe then goes home to artwork and get rid of current 21.2]

One scientist lost the strength of his body. The second lost his SOUL. The third had left the wreckage of the CORE with a lost mind.


End file.
